


Dross

by Aishuu



Series: Dross [1]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, Getting Back Together, Growing Up and Growing Apart, M/M, Melodrama, The Author Regrets Everything, The Livejournal exodus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:45:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishuu/pseuds/Aishuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years later, the ties between the Seigaku team have all but vanished, and a class reunion brings renewed acquaintance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I'm unsure about reposting this series since I was at a very different place when I initially wrote it, but since I'm a completest at heart, up it goes. The series is very melodramatic and angsty, but does end with the Oishi/Kikumaru and Tezuka/Fuji pairings.

Ten years was a long time, but not so long that connections could be completely broken. Friendship forged in the heat of youth and under trial were meant to last a lifetime, after all.

Or so it should have been, in an ideal world. But the world didn’t work like that.

Ten years was a long time, Oishi knew, and memories faded with time. Things that once seemed of vital importance became insignificant, and once important people faded into the past, never quite forgotten, but rarely brought to the forefront of his mind. Every now and then, when taking notes, he’d think of Inui, while sushi always made him think of Kawamura and wonder how his business was, and cameras invariably reminded him of Fuji, but those associations were few and far between. Tennis, of course, made him think of Tezuka and Eiji both, but he had lost contact with them less than a year after leaving. 

Broken bonds, lost to the passage of time.

They had graduated from Seishun Gakuen together, he, Tezuka, Fuji, Eiji, Kawamura and Inui. Together they had made promises to stay in touch with each other and their important underclassmen as well, but the frequent phone calls and occasional meetings of those first few months at college had died down to a trickle, and eventually stopped altogether as new friends and college pressure had arisen. 

Kawamura had been the first he had lost contact with, then Fuji... and one day he realized he hadn’t called Tezuka in six months. A few weeks later, as he sat down to dinner with some friends, he remembered that he had forgotten to send Eiji a birthday card — and then realized he didn’t have his current mailing address, so he couldn’t, even if he wanted to.

Life had happened.

Surprisingly, it was Inui who he still maintained a tentative tie to, Inui who he had known only casually who never forgot a birthday and who managed to attend his graduation. Many would have thought that he, as Seigaku’s “mother” would have been the one to keep the ties alive, but they seemed to live more in Inui’s notebook.

On the first of every month, as regular as the sunrise, Inui would drop him an e-mail, updating him on everything that was going on in his life. Every now and then he’d mention a tantalizing tidbit about someone else, such as Kaidoh’s graduation, or Echizen moving back to the States, which led him to believe that their data collector was still collecting data.

He asked Inui about that, about eight years down the road, right before he entered his internship at one of Tokyo’s largest hospitals.

“Data collection is never finished,” Inui had informed him, “until you reach a conclusion.”

“And you still haven’t?” Oishi had shot back in a one-line reply.

“Conclusions for people are only reached when they die.”

Chilling, but with a certain practicality that showed that Inui hadn’t changed that much.

Oishi had been tempted to ask Inui about the others, because if Inui was keeping suck a close eye on him, he was positive he was in touch with Tezuka and Kaidoh, and most likely everyone else. But Oishi wasn’t that great at answering, as his medical studies took up an ungodly amount of time, and many of Inui’s e-mails were received with a quick “Hi, I’m doing well,” or sometimes lost as he put it off and forgot until the next month.

It was amazing Inui continued, really.

His last round of rotations had finished when Inui’s e-mail arrived, congratulating him. “I’ll take you out for a drink during our reunion. I should be in town then.”

Oishi blinked, then remembered the card he had received in the mail about three months before, asking for reservations. He had totally forgotten about it. 

“I didn’t make reservations, but I’ll see you when you’re up here,” he agreed.

“I made them for you since I knew you probably forgot,” was Inui’s next e-mail, sent thirty minutes later. “I’m on the committee.”

Oishi knew he should have been offended by Inui’s high-handedness, but he was a bit too amused. It was convenient, of course, that the reunion was falling right before he took a permanent post in his family’s hospital, and he knew Inui had understood what his life was like well enough to understand that.

“I’ll be there.”

“So will everyone else. It should be interesting,” came Inui’s reply, and Oishi imagined Inui’s glasses sparkling, and a low, wicked laugh that meant the data collector was about to add more precious information to his collection.

* * *

The day of the event, he dressed neatly, in a black sport jacket and slacks, setting it off with a grey turtleneck. He had heard many horror stories from his med school classmates who had recently attended their ten year reunions, and was going with decidedly mixed feelings.

“There will be people there who seem like they haven’t gone anywhere, and are trapped in the past,” said his close friend, Sanji. “Usually people like the captain of the football club, or the prettiest girl in school. Then they’ll be the people who’ve become salarymen or other mundane jobs - they’re not as bad, but a lot of them seemed to have lost a lot of their personality.”

Oishi tried to think of what had happened to his classmates, and Eiji’s face came to mind. He had never been able to imagine a future for his partner, and since he knew Eiji hadn’t gone pro, he wondered what had become of him. Had he fallen between the cracks? “What kind of person becomes that?”

“Usually the class clown, or the ones who just weren’t smart enough to make it in college. I think it’s almost more painful than seeing the student body president become a mid-level banker, you know?” Sanji said.

He tried to imagine Tezuka as a banker, and sadly the picture fit. But Tezuka would rise, because of the way he was. Before he was forty, he’d be in charge of whatever he was doing.

“What about the people who succeed?” Oishi asked.

Sanji had smiled a bit, obviously happy with himself. “Look in the mirror. They’re the ones who don’t look back. I’m not going to anymore reunions, because there’s nothing there for me - you’ll find the same. Your life isn’t about Seigaku anymore.”

The words had been cold, but Oishi was afraid they held the truth.

He didn’t want to make a big deal out of his career, but he knew many would. Being a doctor was a prestigious career, but when people found out that he was also the heir to the hospital... well, those who hadn’t done so well might be jealous. 

The reunion was in a large hotel close enough to the school that alumni could go take a quick walk on their old stomping grounds in they wanted. Oishi arrived promptly, glancing around for a familiar face. However, most people seemed to be arriving and going immediately in, which meant he needed to do the same.

Wandering over the the registration table, he waited in line for a few minutes before making it to the front. 

“There’s still a few rooms left,” he was told by the woman he vaguely remembered being in the class next to his. “Are you staying all three days?”

“I might be in and out,” Oishi replied. “I live in Tokyo.”

“You can pickup the reunion program on your way out, “ She stared at him, and his name tag which she cheerfully hung around his neck for him - his name, laminated with the fact that he had been class representative. “It’ll be easier if you stay, Oishi-san. I think... weren’t you on the tennis team?”

“Vice captain,” Oishi answered, words which he hadn’t spoken in years.

She shivered a bit. “I think Inui-san is around here waiting for you. He mentioned something about trying to get the old team together.”

“Have you seen any of them yet?”

“I don’t really remember all of them, but I know Tezuka-san is here. Wasn’t he the captain?”

“Yes.” Oishi smiled at her, and thanked her. 

As he walked off, he overheard her turn to the other woman who was working registration. “Did you know he’s a doctor now? And look at that butt! I wonder if he’s playing tennis to keep in shape?”

He had learned to control his blushes long ago, but that comment had his face flaming as he ducked for the safety of the large ballroom.

There were so many people inside - their class had over 500 students in it, and while some of the faces look baguely familiar, like a half-remember dream, he didn’t see anyone. All around him people milled, some wearing nervous expressions, but most seemed to be eager to renew old acquaintences. 

“Oishi?” a voice asked from his side, and he turned to see Fuji smiling at him.

Fuji was still short, his mind noted immediately, but there was no mistaken him. He was styling his hair differently, brushing the long bangs out of his eyes, and time had finally added a more adult look to his face so there would be no mistaking him for a girl anymore, but that smile was still the same.

“Fuji!” he said, and walked over to the smaller man. They clapped each other on the back warmly, and Fuji laughed lightly.

“You look so much older,” he said.

“Do I?” Oishi asked. “It’s only been ten years?”

“Those ten years mean a lot, don’t they?” Fuji asked, and the tilt to his head meant he was thinking. Oishi recognized the posture. “Have you seen anyone else yet?”

“I just got here.”

“Me too. I was hoping to see Eiji — I thought...” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I haven’t seen him in six months, you know.”

Oishi didn’t. “I lost touch with everyone except Inui.”

“Even Tezuka?” Fuji asked, sounding surprised. “You were so close.”

“My med studies ate my life,” Oishi said, though he knew it was a weak excuse. Had he really made a better effort, he should have been able to stay in contact.

“I know what you mean,” Fuji said. 

“You?” Oishi asked curiously. He couldn’t see Fuji as a doctor, but then Fuji had always been unpredictable.

“Psychiatry. I took my boards a month ago,” he said happily. “I think it’s going to be fun.”

Fuji would think that. “Counseling?” Oishi asked with a bit of trepidation. The idea of Fuji licensed to mess around with people’s heads made a shudder run down his spine. Sure, people change, but Oishi was convinced Fuji couldn’t change _that_ much.

“Of course. Why else would I have bothered to get my doctorate?”

“Where are you working?”

“I’ve got a bunch of resumes out, and I’ll see what happens,” Fuji replied easily enough. “Right now I’m taken a couple of months to just travel before I get locked down in a full-time job. My brother gave me a nice camera for my graduation, so I’ve been taking a lot of pictures.”

That was right, Oishi remembered. Fuji had always liked photography, hadn’t he? 

“Have some time for an old friend?” a voice said to their side, and they turned to see Kawamura.

Oishi blinked a few times, but it was Kawamura. He’d put on a lot of muscle, and was wearing a beard, but like Fuji, his eyes were readily recognizable.

“Taka-san!” Fuji had said gleefully, turning to see his friend. Kawamura had always been closer to Fuji than Oishi, especially since he stopped playing tennis in high school.

So much of his high school life had revolved around tennis. It was strange to think that he only played at a club on weekends, with a few friends. He was still better than they all were, but he’d definitely lost the edge that daily training had brought.

Kawamura wasn’t at all hesitant, coming forward and grabbing Fuji’s hand to pull him into a back-thumping embrace. Fuji laughed, and Oishi could see the genuine smile of pleasure on his face. 

“Fujiko, it’s been too long! You should have visited!”

Fuji pulled back, a bit embarrassed. “Yes, well...” He exchanged glances with Oishi.

Kawamura saw the look, and his grin was one of forgiveness. “I know, ten years of university keeps you occupied. You should still come over, though. Ichirou is wondering about his Syuusuke-ojisan.”

“Ichirou?” Oishi echoed, getting a feeling in his stomach.

“My oldest!” Kawamura said, and there was no mistaking the pride in his voice. “I have two, and a third on the way,” he said. “My wife was feeling a bit to sick to come, but if you stop by the restaurant later, you can meet her.”

Oishi hadn’t even known Kawamura was married. From the way he was talking, it was obvious he had followed his father into the family business. Kawamura seemed a bit less shy, and the wallet of photos he shoved into Oishi’s hands showed a happy young family.

He hadn’t considered the possibility that some of his friends might be married. He still saw them as 18, young and ready for the world, instead of the twenty-eight they now were, seasoned by ten years of real life.

Fuji clucked over the pictures obligingly with Oishi. “You’re lucky, Taka-san.”

“Yes, I am. How about you? Anyone special?” Kawamura asked.

Fuji shook his head. “They come and go. Oishi?”

“No time with school and rotations. Maybe I’ll have some time now.”

“Doctors never have time,” another voice said, and Oishi took a moment to recognize Inui. Changes were apparent in him, more so than any other.

He was dressed well, in grey slacks and a blazer that looked like it could have come from Oishi’s own closet, but the black silk shirt he was wearing was a touch too extravagant for Oishi. He was still taller than Oishi, over six feet, but it was the glasses that Oishi missed. Around five years ago, Inui had decided that undergoing laser eye surgery would be a worthwhile investment, and he had. Oishi thought it quite strange to see an Inui whose brown eyes were discernable.

“Inui!” Kawamura said happily. “Are you back from the States for a while?” 

“I took a week or so. I’ve got a computer, so I can still check on my investments,” he said. He glanced at Oishi, and without the glasses, Oishi was readily able to detect the hint of amusement there. “Doctors aren’t the only one married to their jobs,” he said. Inui did something with the stock market, Oishi knew, but he had never been quite clear on what. He was doing well for himself, though, and it involved a lot of numbers and calculations. 

“It’s good to see you,” Oishi said. “Thanks for keeping in touch – I know I probably didn’t deserve it.”

“You’re better than Tezuka,” Inui murmured. “One line replies, if he bothered to reply at all.”

Fuji laughed softly. “It’s nice to know that some things don’t change. Do you know if he came?”

“Our former student body president was cornered by certain members of the committee and reminded of his responsibilities to make an appearances,” Inui said, and this time Oishi was sure he saw Inui’s glasses glittering.

“I’m sure he was happy about that,” Fuji said. He twisted his head, looking around. “Where is he?”

“I saw him talking to Kikumaru,” Inui said. “They were over in the corner.”

“And why aren’t you with them?” Fuji asked curiously as they wordlessly began to follow the data collector.

“Because I wanted to get you. If I hadn’t, the meeting would have been delayed for over an hour as you all exchanged pleasantries,” Inui said. “Kikumaru and Tezuka aren’t likely to leave where they are.”

Oishi was a bit surprised. He remembered the last party, with Eiji bouncing around and having a nearly impossible time restraining him. Perhaps people did change, if Eiji wasn’t social anymore, but he had a hard time imagining him any other way.

“It will be good to see them again,” Fuji said. “Tezuka stopped answering my e-mails after I signed him up for that mailing list a couple of years ago.”

Oishi was a bit afraid of what mailing list Fuji was refering to, because chances were it wasn’t innocuous. “What did you sign him up for, Fuji?” he asked a bit warily.

“It was a group for young professionals to meet other young professionals,” Fuji said with a smile. “I thought his social life could use a bit of help, since he’s not very outgoing.”

Oishi took a moment to process that. “You signed Tezuka up for a _dating list_?”

Kawamura stared at Fuji as well before bursting out laughing. “You must have a death wish, Fujiko!”

Fuji gave them his best “who, me?” look, and suddenly they were all laughing, and it was like no time had passed.

They wove through the crowd, responding to the occasional hello’s and greetings from people who recognized them. They had been popular, and Oishi heard whispers as people explained to their significant others that they were the famed tennis team which had been so good, or as others turned to comment that time hadn’t hurt them at all.

Oishi found it embarrassing.

Finally they found their way to a dimly lit corner which had apparently been staked out earlier by Tezuka and Kikumaru. The lights were dim, but there was no mistaking that head of red hair or Tezuka’s confident posture.


	2. There's Only One Thing That Won't Disappear

Of everyone at Seigaku, Oishi had been closest to Tezuka and Kikumaru. Seeing them after nearly ten years of separation was like plunging into an icy pool. His eyes fell first on Tezuka, because Tezuka still had that aura about him that commanded respect and attention. 

Tezuka hadn’t changed, not really. Not where it mattered — he could tell. His former captain might have been a little taller, his striking face even more refined, but the core of Tezuka Kunimitsu had remained.

Tezuka was still a leader among men.

Oishi exhaled a breath he wasn’t been aware he’d been holding, relieved to see that Tezuka, too, had met his potential. He knew Tezuka hadn’t pursued tennis, and a part of him had wondered if something inside of the stoic man had been broken by that decision.

Still, Oishi felt himself tensing even more as he walked a bit closer, close enough to see Kikumaru Eiji. Everyone else seemed to be doing well enough, and he knew it was too much to hope for that Kikumaru had as well. The odds were against it.

Kikumaru’s hair was shorter, and no longer curled up around his cheeks in the cute flip he had spent their entire second year of middle school cultivating. It now was shorter, though just long enough to curl forward. He wasn’t wearing silk, like Inui, but his clothes were good, and he seemed to be active as he waved a hand to make a point to Tezuka. He hadn’t noticed their approach, since he was standing with his back to them, and it took Tezuka clearing his throat for him to turn around.

Spinning around like the cat they had always teased him of being, Oishi noticed that Kikumaru’s face, too, had refined. His features were sharp and foxlike, and his eyes seemed to have become more angular after his cheeks had lost the last of the baby fat that had made him “cute.”

Oishi knew he shouldn’t be thinking Kikumaru had become “sexy” but that was what had occurred.

Kikumaru’s eyes scanned the four newcomers quickly, and before any of them were aware what had happened, he threw himself at Fuji, wrapping the smaller man in a hug that probably squeezed the breath right out of him. “Fuji! I’m sorry I haven’t called! It’s just been really hectic lately!” he said. “I’m so sorry I didn’t make it to your graduation — but did you get my gift?”

So Fuji and Kikumaru _had_ been keeping in touch, Oishi noted. He wondered how they managed, with Fuji in med school. Oishi’s life had practically been non-existent while he’d been going through it. Then again, Fuji was a genius, and he was not.

Fuji’s laugh was light and pleasant as he gradually extracted himself from Kikumaru’s hands. “It’s fine. It takes two to stop calling,” he said gently. “How have you been?”

Kikumaru hesitated a bit as he stepped back. “Busy!” he pronounced. “You know how my job is — it’s never 9 to 5.” Turning, he smiled over at Oishi, and Oishi felt like he was falling across the years, back to the time when they were the Golden Pair. Kikumaru’s next words shattered the illusion, though. “It’s been a while, Oishi.”

Oishi nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He didn’t know what to say, how to apologize, but then Kikumaru was stepping forward and he found himself locked in an embrace that was warmth and sunshine. Kikumaru was still using the same shampoo, he noted absently, as he wrapped his arms around the man who had been so much a part of his formative years.

The others were respectfully quiet, and Oishi wasn’t sure how long they stood locked in each other’s arms, thinking about what had been, but he knew when Kikumaru slipped back, a slightly regretful smile on his face that time had indeed passed. “Inui tells me you just got your doctorate. Congratulations!” Kikumaru said, and then the distance returned, like a wall of glass he wasn’t sure how to break through.

Kikumaru’s words, though, opened a floodgate, as others apparently decided it was time to do the obligatory ten-year review.

“Tezuka,” Fuji said, and the serpent-like tone had everyone turn wary eyes on him. Apparently Fuji’s venom had come closer to the surface in the intervening years. “How are things going? You know what they say: all work and no play makes Tezuka a dull boy.”

Oishi blinked a bit, turning to see how Tezuka was going to react. In his memory, he could never recall Fuji confronting Tezuka so directly; he wondered what had happened.

Tezuka, though, merely gave a slight smile, one which made Oishi feel off-balance. Tezuka’s smiles used to be rare as diamonds on the ground, but it seemed that there had been some changes. “My life is proceeding according to plan,” he said.

Fuji’s eyes narrowed a bit, and Oishi felt like he was watching a silent war as Tezuka stared back.

“Eiji, what have you been up to?” Oishi asked, not only because he was sincerely interested, but because he didn’t want to watch Fuji bait Tezuka, and listen to Tezuka’s ice water replies.

Always the peacekeeper.

“I’m in Social Services,” Kikumaru said, his smile a bit softer than Oishi remembered. “I work with kids.”

Oishi hadn’t been expecting that, but he hadn’t been expecting anything of Kikumaru. He had never been able to imagine a future for his partner, because Kikumaru was so much a creature of the present.

But the future had arrived, and it looked like Kikumaru had survived. There was something a bit quieter about him, a bit more subdued as he listened to Kawamura immediately launch into a long spiel on his own precious ones, but he seemed to be alright.

It was like a prayer Oishi didn’t know he had been making had been answered.

The others were similarly amused, for it seemed that Kawamura’s passion for tennis had been transferred into an intense and abiding love for his children, and his wife, Reika. Every now and then he’d turn to Fuji, looking for encouragement, or Inui, who would provide statistics on normal child development, but Tezuka, Oishi and Kikumaru were his audience.

Eventually, though, Kawamura had to pause, and Inui brought up the next subject. “I know Oishi isn’t planning on staying, so I was hoping we could go have a more private gathering tonight, after the welcoming speeches have been made.”

“Why don’t we just slip out now?” Kikumaru suggested, and a slightly mischievous smile lit his face as though he was suggesting something wrong. “I’ve seen everyone I want to, so there’s no point in staying.”

“As former student body president, I have to speak,” Tezuka said. He crossed his arms over his chest, obviously not budging.

“Still so responsible,” Fuji teased.

Tezuka turned his head slightly away, obviously ignoring the other man. Oishi wondered if something in particular had happened to them when he had lost contact. As far as he knew, he had been the first one to fall out of touch.

“What are you going to say, buchou?” Kikumaru asked curiously. His head tilted at the angle that Oishi knew meant he was being playful.

“You’ll see. And I’m not your buchou anymore.”

“You’ll always be our buchou,” Kikumaru said, and though his smile was teasing, his eyes were utterly serious. Even through there were in a crowded ballroom, the others seemed to reflect on what Kikumaru had said, and even Fuji stepped back, apparently deciding to leave off tormenting Tezuka. “But you never told me what you’ve been doing!” he said, apparently deciding the atmosphere was way too solemn. “You never write, you never call,” he said, pouting a bit.

“I’m a lawyer,” Tezuka said. “International law.”

The others looked at him for a moment, obviously trying to decide what they thought of Tezuka’s profession, but Oishi could see it working. Tezuka had always been a detail-oriented person, yet at the same time he didn’t lack the ability to see the bigger picture. “Are you thinking of entering the diplomatic field?” Oishi asked.

“No,” Tezuka said. “I mainly work on helping interpret trade treaties and patent law at the moment. I do a lot of overseas work, actually.”

“Sounds difficult,” Fuji said.

“It’s not easy, because the wrong decision can affect thousands of lives.”

Oishi felt a weight on his chest, knowing that in a few weeks, he would be in a similar position – though his decisions would be only be affecting one life at a time. Still, he would be able to put faces to their names, 

“Even the right decision can have a bad effect,” Kikumaru said suddenly, and all the eyes turned to see the redhead looking extremely thoughtful.

“Yes, but it’s a case of doing what is best for the most people – and always obeying the law,” Tezuka replied.

“And if the law is a bad one?” Fuji asked.

“Then you try to get it changed or deleted off the books,” Tezuka said. “We don’t win all the battles, but we try.”

It wasn’t too much longer before Tezuka was called upon to give his speech, but Oishi didn’t really pay attention to what he was saying. He’d sat through innumerable speeches since deciding to pursue a medical career, and one obligatory career speech was much like any other, really. 

Instead, he watched Tezuka’s face, seeing the small changes time had wrought. Fine lines were started to form around the corner of his eyes, and the golden frames he was wearing glinted in the poorly lit ballroom. The shape was different, since the pair was obviously newer than the one Tezuka had worn during high school, but the slightly sharper angles suited Tezuka’s forceful personality.

Tezuka’s deep voice washed out over their class, and Oishi heard the women sigh as Tezuka paused, straightening his glasses as was his habit when he was taking a moment to consider a point. Glancing over at his friends, he noticed that the others seemed enthralled, and Inui had some kind of hand-held recording device out. It wasn’t quite a camcorder, but it was definitely taking both pictures and sound.

It seemed Inui had upgraded his methods, too, as time had passed.

Kawamura and Kikumaru cheered Tezuka on as their captain came to a close, applauding him loudly as he handed the microphone back to the reunion chair. Tezuka cast them a look that could have past for annoyed, but was too faint to really tell.

“You’re embarrassing him,” Oishi chided as Tezuka made his way back to them.

“Nothing embarrasses Tezuka!” Kikumaru teased, bouncing back and forth on his feet. He looked at where Tezuka had been stalled by a few people. Tezuka was listening to them politely, but not really saying anything.

Inui opened his mouth, obviously ready to provide a few instances where Tezuka had been embarrassed, but Fuji inserted himself smoothly into the conversation instead. “Did we want to go have a quiet dinner together, since this is Oishi’s only night here?” he asked. 

“I might be in and out,” Oishi said lamely.

Kikumaru looked at him with those purple eyes that made him feel like he’d just kicked a puppy. “I’ve got a double. How about you crash with me?” he offered. “It’d be nice to have you around.”

Kawamura agreed. “My wife will be coming later, if she feels better. You need to stay and meet her, Oishi!”

“I-I didn’t bring anything,” Oishi started to protest.

“You can go home tomorrow and pick up what you need,” Fuji argued neatly. “Besides, who knows when we’ll all be together again?”

Oishi felt thoroughly trapped. “I... I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

Kikumaru threw his arms around Oishi’s neck, and Oishi found the oxygen being driven from his lungs. “Yay! It’s a slumber party!”

It couldn’t hurt, could it? After all, how much could three days change? In three days, he would go back to his life, and they would head back to theirs. 

That was the way the world worked, after all.


	3. I Don't Know What This Madness Means

As Kikumaru pulled Oishi through the hallway at breakneck speed, he glanced over his shoulder nervously. “Are you sure we’re not being followed?” he asked.

Oishi could understand the reason for his concern — splashing Fuji in the face with a fuzzy navel, no matter how irritating Fuji was being, was the equivalence of signing your own death warrant. 

“I think he went to clean up, but...” Oishi trailed off, feeling exceptionally nervous himself. He had known that class reunions tended to have more than their share of antics, but he really hadn’t been expecting anything like this to kick it off.

He wasn’t quite sure why Kikumaru had been the one who snapped first. Fuji had spent the night needling Tezuka, with Inui subtly encouraging him. The other three of them had watched, feeling a bit like unwilling spectators with ringside seats at a bloody fight. Tezuka pretended to ignore each jab Fuji launched, which only encouraged the slender man to become more and more outrageous. Oishi wasn’t sure if he liked the person Fuji had become. He was downright nasty at times, insinuating things that were beyond rude.

Still, the six of them retired from the ballroom to the hotel bar for drinks, he hoped that the more private setting would mellow their moods. He had forgotten how nasty Fuji got after touching alcohol — and forgotten that Tezuka tended to brood even more after imbibing.

They had found a small circular table in the corner, with the low-light of the twilight hours casting strange illusions that Oishi’s fanciful thoughts twisted. At one moment, he saw them as fifteen again, and in middle school, while the next the candlelight had aged them so they were white-haired old men, drinking to ages past. It was uncomfortable, really.

They spoke in low voices, and Oishi felt comfortable with Kikumaru on one side of him and Kawamura on the other. Tezuka was directly across, which made conversation easy... had Tezuka been inclined to it. But Tezuka was still more likely to fade to silence, letting others carry on his part in the discussion.

None of them drank enough to get drunk. They had done that once at seventeen, and learned their lesson. But the two glasses they did share was enough to lower their last remaining inhibitions, and that was enough to spark them off. Fuji didn’t drink more than the two the rest of them had shared, just enough to loosen up, but the effect was devastating on his tongue.

Fuji grew slightly more vocal as the evening progressed, pressing ruthlessly. “So, Tezuka,” Fuji said about an hour after they had entered, and his voice managed to cut through one of those periodic lulls in conversation that happened every now and then, “have you give some thought to the advice I gave you?”

Oishi began to frantically think of some way to think of someway to distract Fuji, but couldn’t. Glancing at Kawamura, the sushi chef gave him a shrug and his eyes seemed to say, _Let them fight this one out._

Oishi knew he’d been out of touch for too long, if Tezuka and Fuji were so outwardly hostile. The subtlety he’d long admired in Fuji seemed to have been melted away, leaving only the sharpness that frightened so many.

“What advice would that be?” Tezuka asked neutrally, poking the olive in his glass with a toothpick. He didn’t even bother looking over at Fuji, and Inui, who was seated between them, hitched his chair back a little, getting out of the way. Apparently the data collector thought this squabble was going to be the big one.

“Good point. I did give you quite a bit, but you always did ignore anything I said,” Fuji mused, tapping a finger against his chin thoughtfully. “The advice I was referring to was what I said when we last saw each other. About how you needed to learn how to relax.”

Kikumaru squirmed a bit but Oishi put a hand on his knee, just like old times. Fuji wasn’t going to be stopped, and Oishi didn’t want to see Kikumaru caught in the crossfire. Kikumaru pulled back from Fuji, inching a bit closer to Oishi as his eyes widened. 

“It’s no concern of yours what I do,” Tezuka said, and he turned his back slightly, obviously meaning to start a conversation with Kawamura. The chef looked uncomfortable, since he rarely spoke with Tezuka, and Oishi would have wagered that Kawamura wasn’t fond of being used as an escape.

Oishi wondered when Tezuka had gotten _stupid._ The first rule of dealing with Fuji was never turn your back to him. Fuji just smiled, and raised an eyebrow, looking at Inui.

“There’s more to life than laws, you know. If all we did was obey the law, life would be boring, don’t you think?” he asked. 

Inui didn’t say anything, probably deciding that getting in the middle of the two was pure insanity. Unfortunately for him, that was exactly where he was seated, and there was no polite way to extract himself.

“Law is what provides cohesion to our society,” Tezuka said, a bit stung as he turned his head back, forgetting about his intention to ignore Fuji. Apparently this was a sore issue with him. “It gives us order.”

“Law is for those who can’t think for themselves,” Fuji replied, and his smile seemed predatory as he moved in to further toy with his prey. “It’s for those who are too weak—”

“Shut up, Fuji!” Kikumaru snapped, and before anyone knew it, the drink he had been holding went flying, dousing the former Seigaku team’s tensai in the face.

One of those silences that was too heavy to be filled by anything except discomfort filled the air.

Oishi couldn’t believe Kikumaru had done it. Fuji clearly couldn’t believe Kikumaru had done it. From his face, Kikumaru couldn’t believe he had done it.

Fuji stared at the redhead as he slowly raised a hand to his now-soaked face. The smile had vanished, and bright blue eyes were looking out dangerously. He was angry, everyone could tell, and Oishi looked at Kikumaru nervously. Apparently Tezuka wasn’t the only one who had gotten _stupid_ over time.

Kikumaru stared at the now-empty glass in his hand in shock. 

“Um, I’m tired. Oishi, how about we go get some sleep? Goodnight everyone!” he said after a long moment, coming to his feet unsteadily in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol, and everything to do with the way Fuji was slowly shaking his head, trying to get the sweet liquor away from his eyes.

Oishi followed Eiji quickly, not wanting to wait around long enough for Fuji to gather himself. He knew that it was going to be trouble enough anyway, later. Best let Fuji sober up, and remember that Kikumaru didn’t really mean anything nasty by his actions... probably. Oishi wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Kikumaru wasn’t the partner he had known.

None of them were. The only ones who had acted according to the scripts he still had memorized were Inui and Kawamura.

Kikumaru’s room was on the ninth floor, and it took about five minutes to get there, all the while looking over their shoulders. Kikumaru fumbled with the key card a few times before the door opened, admitting them.

Oishi found himself shoved in rather rudely as Kikumaru forced him through, the redhead’s haste making him rough. Oishi landed on his knees a bit hard, but Kikumaru followed just as quickly, slamming the door right behind him, finally leaning back against the door with a sigh of relief. “Safe!” he declared, taking a deep breath.

Oishi found himself breathing a bit heavily as well, the mad rush they had just taken part in having winded him. Climbing nine flights of emergency stairs when their was a perfectly good elevator was a bit mad... 

Though considering what Kikumaru had done to Fuji, maybe it hadn’t been so crazy. “Eiji, what the hell were you thinking?” Oishi asked, his politeness melting away as he realized how insane they had just acted. They were adults, not teenagers.

Eiji seemed embarrassed, but not at all repentant. “I just wanted him to be quiet,” he said softly. He shrugged, flashed his grin, and blinked. “He’ll forgive me after he kills me.”

Oishi had a nasty mental picture of some of the things Fuji might think up. “He’s going to be furious after he gets over the shock... and we left them with the bill,” Oishi said, suddenly realizing they had forgotten to pay in their haste to get out of there.

Kikumaru yawned, stretching slowly. “That’s one more thing for Fuji to kill me for. If he can catch up to me.”

“Eiji, all he needs to do is check out the registry, and he can find out where your room is.”

Kikumaru smiled slowly. “Hotels don’t release that information anymore, you know. They won’t even let people know you’re staying anywhere.”

Oishi wondered how Kikumaru knew that. “He can check with the organizers. Inui is one of them, remember?”

Kikumaru blinked once, and his smile slowly faded. “Well, shit.”

“Eiji!” Oishi exclaimed a bit surprised at his friend’s language. He finally made the effort to rise his feet, wincing a bit from a slightly sore knee. 

“Sorry. Everyone in my college dorm swore, and I sometimes start when I’m worried.” There was a slight blush on his cheeks. “I’ll try to watch it.”

“It’s fine,” Oishi assured Kikumaru. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Kikumaru settled on the bed closest to the window, his feet handing over the edge. “A lot’s changed in ten years. I’m not sure what either of us should have been expecting.” Purple eyes glanced over at Oishi curiously. “What did you expect me to be?”

Oishi opened his mouth and closed it, unable to say that he’d never really been able to imagine Kikumaru in the future. “Not someone who’d be able to throw a fuzzy navel in Fuji’s face.”

“He had that coming,” Kikumaru said, folding his arms over his chest. He looked about ready to sulk. 

Oishi kicked off his shoes and went over to the other twin bed, smiling slightly. It was a bit funny now, in retrospect, and he knew that Fuji’s stunned expression would be one of his fondest memories – provided he and Kikumaru managed to make it through the rest of the weekend in one piece. “Maybe I should reconsider staying for the rest of the reunion if the entire time’s going to be like this.”

He’d meant to tease gently, but his comment apparently struck something in Kikumaru. The red head was suddenly as stiff as a board, his eyes a bit wide in panic. “No, no! I promise I’ll apologize to Fuji in the morning!” Kikumaru said hurriedly. “Please stay? We haven’t seen each other in so long!”

It was hard not to be taken aback at the fervor in Kikumaru’s voice, but Oishi merely gave what he hoped was a comforting smile. “I know, Eiji. I was teasing.”

Some of the tension that had been in Kikumaru’s shoulders relaxed, and the he gave a smile. “Sorry, sorry. I was just really looking forward to seeing you again. I’m glad you’re still the way you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re still Oishi,” Kikumaru said simply. “It’s nice to know you haven’t changed.” A yawn caught him by surprise, and he covered his mouth a bit guiltily. “I’ve got to go to sleep, but tomorrow we can have breakfast and sort this mess out.” He kicked off his shoes and slipped under the blankets without bothering to change, apparently thoroughly exhausted.

Oishi hesitated for a moment before rising to turn off the room lights, promising himself he’d get a clean set of clothing in the morning. He found his bed surprisingly comfortable, and as he glanced at the clock, noticed it was going on 2 a.m.

No wonder Kikumaru was so tired.

Kikumaru was breathing softly, and Oishi thought him asleep until he heard the soft tenor speak. “I’m really glad you’re here. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Oishi said, and was glad he wasn’t lying. He had missed the redhead – but he wasn’t sure if the Kikumaru he was meeting now was the one he had known. There seemed to be something different, something more thoughtful.

But before he could grasp onto that thought, the combination of his own fatigue and alcohol and the sound of Kikumaru’s breathing took him off to sleep.


	4. Tell Me What Happens Along the Way

He woke gradually, hearing the sounds of someone moving around quietly. Oishi had a horrible taste in his mouth, and his fuzzy mind realized he had forgotten to brush his teeth before going to bed before he recognized that he wasn’t in his own bed.

The thought sent him flying upright, to his feet, but he was off-balance and the blankets tangled around his legs. He landed in a less-than-graceful pile on the floor. The pain jogged his memory enough for him to recall the previous night — reunion, agreeing to stay, Kikumaru...

...who appeared from the bathroom, wearing one of the robes the hotel provided and was still wet from the shower. Damp tendrils, looking like splotches of blood, curled against his cheeks as he looked down at Oishi, canting his head slightly. “Rise and shine?” he asked with a bit of amusement after it became clear that Oishi was all in one piece. 

“I’ll rise but I won’t shine,” Oishi muttered back a bit grumpily. He’d learned to sleep some weird hours while on rotations, but he still begrudged getting up.

“Inui will be by in fifteen minutes with some coffee for you,” Kikumaru informed him. “Will that help?”

“How-”

“He texted me. He said that you’d be impossible until you had caffeine. Go back to bed and just relax, okay?” Kikumaru’s grin was playful as his gentle hands helped Oishi back onto the bed. He hummed lightly as he headed back to the bathroom, and Oishi listened to him as he continued to move around.

It was strange, listening to someone else’s morning routine after spending so long alone. He’d had a roommate while an undergraduate, but as soon as he’d become a med student, he’d moved into his own place, finding that he needed the space. He found having another person around 24-7 intrusive.

Kikumaru’s presence, though, wasn’t bothering him. The sound of water running as Kikumaru brushed his teeth and his rather quiet fumbling was soothing. They’d spent a lot of time together when they were younger at the each other’s houses, and listening to Kikumaru was taking him back to those days because the rhythm was familiar. 

The song Kikumaru was humming was pleasant, and Kikumaru’s voice relaxed Oishi in a way he hadn’t been in ages. Stress was a daily part of his life, especially with his chosen vocation, and he knew that he had years of tension built up. But Kikumaru seemed to melt that away, his mere presence a balm.

He remembered it being like that, back in high school.

Oishi probably fell back to sleep, because the next thing he knew, the tantalizing aroma of coffee was tickling his nose, and Inui was standing at the foot of the bed, holding two cups just out of reach.

He almost growled.

Inui was dressed casually, wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt emblazoned with some weird mathematical formula and jeans. The grin on his face was pure evil, and Oishi wondered if the coffee had been doctored with some kind of “special Inui variation.” He wasn’t sure if he cared as long as it was caffeine.

Inui smiled down at him, and Oishi actually groaned out loud. “What is it, Inui?” he asked.

“Coffee, black. If you get up,” Inui said, dangling one of the cups in Oishi’s face. “I believe that’s how you take it?”

“My first cup, yes...” he said, pushing the blankets back a bit groggily. His brain still wasn’t in full gear yet, but the bitter taste of sheer black coffee jolted him awake. The coffee was some of the strongest he’d ever tasted, and he took a second, more cautious sip, looking at Inui for an explanation.

“Inui’s Special Coffee,” he said. “Guaranteed to wake a dead man.”

“Where was this when I was studying for my boards?” Oishi asked appreciatively. 

Inui’s laugh was low. “Se-cr-et.”

Oishi savored the warmth of the cup in his hands. “How long did this take to perfect?”

“I’ve been experimenting with it since senior year in high school, but it wasn’t until two years ago that it was perfected,” Inui said. “I had to bring my own supplies to make it in my room.”

Oishi’s thinking processes had been jump-started by the caffeine jolt. “Is this in any way related to your juice experiments?”

“Those were its predecessors. I had to give those up, sadly, to work on this.”

“I think it’s a sacrifice the world can live with.” Oishi was being diplomatic; the sure knowledge that there were no more Inui Juices in existence was a wonderful thing. Occasionally he’d have flashbacks to drinking one of them, and the twitches the memories causes had kept him from becoming a surgeon. Inui had always claimed that there were no lasting effects to drinking them; Oishi thought the psychological trauma was more than enough.

“Perhaps,” Inui agreed. He took a drink out of the cup he held, and glanced at his watch. “We’ve got fifteen minutes.”

“Huh?” Oishi wasn’t aware of any plans.

“I’m going to take you back to your apartment so you can get what you need.”

“I can take the subway-” Oishi began to protest, realizing that Inui was maneuvering him in some grand master scheme.

“Go with Inui,” Kikumaru said as he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a bright violet button-down shirt that contrasted his hair. “You have to see his car.”

Inui smiled a bit. “It’s functional.”

“It’s a _Dodge Viper Coupe,_ ” Kikumaru added, rolling the words slowly as though savoring the taste of them. “You’ve got to go, Oishi.”

Oishi didn’t know anything about cars, but Kikumaru sounded impressed. “Is that good?”

Kikumaru groaned, putting his head in his hands. “A 2000 Steel gray Dodge Viper Coupe, Connolly leather interior,” he began. “And a 450 horse power engine.”

“I had it imported,” Inui said a bit smugly. “It’s a very nice vehicle. If you’re good, I’ll even let you play with the radio. Go freshen up a bit, and we can get going so we can be back in time for lunch.”

Oishi found himself obeying, since he did feel a bit disgusting, wearing the same clothes he had been the night before. He washed his face and straightened himself as best he could before returning to the room, finding Kikumaru sitting on the floor and watching the weather channel and Inui messing with his lap top at the small table in the corner.

“When are we leaving?” Oishi asked, grabbing the cup he had set aside. The coffee was still warm, and there was no way he was letting it go to waste.

“I’m going to take you as soon as I finish checking my stocks. Give me five minutes.” Inui tapped something out.

“Looks like it’s going to be a nice day! Maybe we can go to Seigaku and check out the courts!” Kikumaru said happily, bouncing to his feet to manually switch the TV off.

“That would be fun. I’ll show you my apartment while we’re there,” he told Kikumaru. 

“Maybe some other time. I’m not going,” said Kikumaru, looking out of his eyes sideways as he plopped down on his bed, making himself comfortable. “I’ll meet you for lunch, okay?”

“Oh,” was all Oishi could think to say, hoping that his face wasn’t displaying the stab of disappointment he was feeling. He’d been looking forward to talking to Kikumaru, and really seeing what he’d been up to the past few years. In the daylight, he realized that he really didn’t know anything about his former doubles’ partner life — and he wanted to. 

Kikumaru’s hand went behind his head the way it did whenever he was feeling a bit awkward. “I’m going to be meeting Fuji shortly. I figured I should apologize as soon as possible. He’s always forgiven me before,” he said. He still wasn’t meeting Oishi’s eyes.

“You mean you’ve done this before?” Oishi asked in horror.

“No, no! I mean whenever I do something stupid, he forgives me! He’s a good friend, really!” Kikumaru said hurriedly.

Inui, standing nearby, gave Kikumaru a look. “There is a 17 percent chance you went too far this time. Combined with his current situation, the chance goes up to 29 percent that he won’t be in a forgiving mood.”

Kikumaru actually stuck his tongue out at Inui. “You still can’t get data on Fuji. He’ll forgive me.”

Inui looked a bit disgruntled about that point. “Fuji is Fuji,” he muttered, barely loud enough to be heard.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to go?” Oishi asked nervously. He wasn’t sure it was such a good idea for Kikumaru to be alone with the tensai, especially considering how venomous he had been the night before. 

“It’s fine,” Kikumaru said, rolling his eyes. “Still such a mother, Oishi. Fuji and I get along, really we do. It’s nice that you’re worried, but I can take care of myself. Okay?”

Meeting the purple eyes in a face that seemed to be too old, Oishi nodded reluctantly. _He’s right,_ he told himself. _He’s not the same kid who used to beg to borrow your homework because he forgot to do his._ “I’m sorry. I’m just so used to thinking of you as the kid who was always forgetting something.”

Kikumaru’s smile wasn’t offended, though maybe a bit sad. “I miss that kid, but I’m not him anymore. You and Inui should get going if you’re going to make it back on time.”

* * *

Oishi didn’t know anything about cars, but he did have to admit Inui’s was impressive. It was a beautiful machine, and every time Inui shifted as he carefully navigated the streets, Oishi could feel the engine respond, the carefully reined in power almost complaining that it wasn’t getting to do enough.

The car was really begging to be taken out somewhere where it could be let loose, Oishi thought. It was simply too magnificent to be used as a commuter machine. The looks they were attracting seemed to second that.

Owning a car in Tokyo was expensive, and owning one like this had a cost a fortune. Inui had to be doing really well, Oishi recognized with a bit of reluctant admiration. He didn’t like status symbols, but this one was nice.

Inui seemed oblivious to how much he had impressed his friend, keeping his eyes on the road. Oishi’s apartment was quite a ways away, which gave them plenty of time to sit and be silent.

Oishi had never been good at small talk, finding himself adept at the “open mouth, insert foot” style of communication and Inui didn’t seem inclined to begin a conversation. It was frustrating, since Oishi was still feeling off-balance from seeing people he’d once known so well changed into creatures that seemed to be caricatures of their former selves. Personalities had deepened, shifted, changed.

And he felt confused. He wanted to know them again. Perhaps it was nostalgia, but he wanted to know who they were and what had _happened_.

“We grew up,” Inui said out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

“You were dwelling on what had happened to everyone. It’s quite simple. Everyone grew up. Ten years of life experience alters even those we thought would never change,” Inui said. “Some of us changed more than others. The core of the personality is still there, but we either bend or we break.”

Oishi thought of Tezuka and Fuji. “I wasn’t been expecting it,” he admitted. “Not Tezuka and Fuji, at least. I never thought Fuji would be so nasty. I mean, there were signs of it before, but you always knew that he would never hurt a friend.”

“They’re not friends.”

Oishi hadn’t wanted to admit that possibility. “Why?”

“There’s an underlying cause there,” Inui said. “Bitterness, and we’re looking at the outside of a relationship that didn’t work.”

“Relationship?” Oishi asked, feeling himself go pale. He had never even considered.

“I’m not sure if it was a relationship. Neither of them are the particularly open type,” Inui said, and he shifted his eyes off the road briefly to look at Oishi’s shocked expression. “They lived together while Tezuka was in law school and Fuji was going to med school. Fuji dated a few people at the time, so I’m not sure if they did get involved, but the pattern of their behavior now and the abruptness Fuji moved out in the middle of his third year leads me to believe that was indeed the case.”

Oishi tried to digest the fact that Fuji and Tezuka might have been lovers. “It’s hard to picture,” he said, since he had a hard time seeing Tezuka being romantic with anyone. 

“I can’t be sure,” Inui said, and he sounded a bit bitter. “Whenever Fuji is involved, any data I collect is as good as useless.”

“So he and Tezuka have been fighting for two years?”

“Close to that. At least according to what I’ve been able to glean from Kikumaru’s and Fuji’s occasional e-mails. Fuji isn’t the forgiving type, and whatever happened had to be quite ugly for Fuji to be this outright cruel. He knows how to strike at someone’s weakest points, and that’s what he’s doing.”

“Should we have let Kikumaru go alone?” he asked in concern. The idea of what Fuji would do, had Kikumaru really pushed him too far, was too awful to consider.

“He and Kikumaru are close, though they haven’t had much recent contact. I think Kikumaru will be fine,” Inui said. “He’s stronger than you think.”

The car finally glided into the parking lot of Oishi’s apartment complex, a nice mid-range area that Oishi was probably going to remain in for a while. It was close enough to his family hospital that the commute wasn’t burdensome, and he enjoyed the neighbors.

“I wasn’t planning on staying at the reunion,” Oishi admitted reluctantly. “But I can’t resist. It’s like I’m finding things I didn’t know I had forgotten, finding bits of myself I needed.” Oishi remembered Kikumaru’s smile, Kawamura’s pure joy in life and the quiet strength in the set of Tezuka’s shoulders – even the way Fuji had hassled them all.

They had been his foundation, once.

“I knew you would,” Inui said, and the smile played on his lips. “Class reunions, especially the first, are a good way to say goodbye to our past.”

“I’m not sure if I was right to say goodbye anymore. But you can’t go back,” Oishi said. He smiled as his doorman greeted him, feeling himself relax a bit. His life was here, and he liked it.

Inui must have noticed, but as always, his astute comment made Oishi think. “There’s no reason you can’t go ahead and pick up some of what you lost. The truly important things always return to us.”

* * *

Despite the time it took Oishi to shower, change and pack, they arrived back earlier than anticipated, which meant that they had the option of catching the reunion lunch. Oishi wasn’t very happy about the idea since he’d been hoping to meet Kikumaru in a more private location, but Inui, as a member of the organizing committee, felt obligated to show up.

“Reunions are about seeing and being seen. It’s a contest, Oishi, and you and I are two of the winners,” he said. “The entire team has done well for itself.”

He didn’t like thinking like that, but he knew that was the truth. He, Inui, Tezuka and Fuji were all in enviable positions. And Kawamura and Kikumaru seemed to be enjoying themselves, so their success rate was truly amazing. “It’s too bad Echizen wasn’t in our class,” Oishi said, smiling slightly. 

“He’s still annoyed that he never beat Tezuka,” Inui said, smirking back. “He sends me links to articles about his tournaments. For my records, he says.”

Oishi couldn’t stop from chuckling at Echizen’s antics. He wasn’t surprised that Inui had managed to maintain touch with their kohai even though he had become one of the most famous tennis players in the world. It was just the kind of thing he would do, and it probably irritated Echizen. “Does he see Kaidou often?”

“No. Kaidou is on the doubles circuit, so they only see each other at major tournaments, and neither is the type to seek the other out.”

“Indeed.” The two most anti-social members of their team had been the ones to end up in the limelight. The thought made Oishi laugh again.

“Both of them offered to get tickets for any of their senpai, should anyone want them,” Inui said softly. “I think they’d enjoy seeing you again, though they wouldn’t say that.”

Oishi lowered his eyes. He knew that in his sentimental mood, he’d probably agree, and he didn’t want to be making promises while feeling so muddled.

“Something to think on. Shall we go?” Inui asked instead of pressing the issue.

The reunion lunch was taking place in the hotel ballroom, as the only place large enough to seat the entire class. There seemed to be more people here, with the fifty white-draped tables scattered seemingly at random throughout the room. Oishi kept his eyes peeled for the distinctive red hair, and was relieved to find Kikumaru seated in a place near where the group had been speaking the night prior. 

Only Fuji and Kikumaru sat at the table, side by side, holding what seemed to be an intimate conversation from the way their heads were bent toward each other. Fuji noticed their arrival first, glancing up at them. His eyes landed on Oishi briefly, and for a split-second Oishi felt himself being weighed... and found wanting. Then a pleasant smile came to Fuji’s face and he waved them over.

It took all of Oishi’s courage not to high-tail it out of there. 

Oishi studied the seats and carefully selected the one by Kikumaru. Inui took the one on Fuji’s other side, leaving six still empty. This was a semi-casual buffet, and all four young men were in jeans, while most of their classmates had selected clothes a touch more formal. It amused Oishi that they were secure enough not to have to wear “status” clothes, despite Inui’s previous lecture.

“It’s okay,” Fuji said almost immediately. “Eiji and I’ve settled things, so there’s no need to hover over him so protectively.”

Oishi looked at Kikumaru who seemed to be content. “I’m sorry, I just...”

“It’s not the first time Eiji’s done something that was stupid, and it won’t be the last,” Fuji said, and he slanted Kikumaru an amused look. “But I should have considered his feelings more.”

Kikumaru laughed a bit nervously. “I apologized, it’s done. Fuji forgave me, so let’s forget about it, okay?”

Oishi took a look at Fuji, wondering if the tensai was going to forget, and Fuji nodded slightly, indicating that he was going along with it. “That sounds best.”

“Indeed. And next time, Eiji has already agreed that drinks are on him,” Fuji said pleasantly.

Oishi groaned at the lousy joke and Inui’s eyebrow twitched, but it broke the tension.

Ten minutes later, Tezuka and Kawamura had joined them, and Oishi found himself watching the way Tezuka and Fuji were treating each other. Tezuka was freezing the other man out, while Fuji was carefully avoiding talking to their former captain. Neither was looking at the other, which was an improvement from the attacks of last night, but Oishi missed the way it had been, when Tezuka had counted on Fuji... when they had been friends. Clearly, they were not anymore.

The tension between them wasn’t allowed to build this time, though, not with Kikumaru leading the conversation in the “remember when?” game. Their school antics had everyone laughing, especially when Inui told Tezuka the story of “psycho bowler Oishi” and Oishi retaliated by telling the former captain of the whole Inui/Kaidou “date” phone exchange.

They had had some good times, and when they moved onto high school memories, they started talking about which girls they had dated, and slyly looking at them across the room to see if they had gotten prettier or fatter. Tezuka looked pained as Kikumaru teased him about his fan club, but brought up the fact that at least he’d never actually had one come to a tennis game and yell in front of the entire crowd that she was going to marry him.

Oishi remembered that incident. Luckily it had been during a preliminary match, because Kikumaru had been so distracted that Oishi had to pick up more than his share... but that was what partners were for. Kikumaru had returned the favor, more than once. Eventually, it all came down to tennis, and Oishi was saddened to learn that Ryuuzaki-sensei had retired.

“About three years ago, actually,” Fuji said. “Didn’t you receive the invitation to her retirement party?”

He might have, but he probably hadn’t even opened it. At that time, his nose had been buried in his textbooks and he’d shut the rest of the world out. “She seemed like such an institution. I can’t imagine Seigaku without her.”

The grins exchanged at his embarrassment were suspicious. “What?”

Kikumaru started to laugh. “Momo-chan took her place. He’s coaching a team that might be almost as good as we were.”

“Momoshiro is coaching?” 

“And very well,” Inui said. “They actually tried to get him to move up to the senior high or university division, but he refused. He wants to stay ‘where it all began.’”

“We can go over and see him, ne?” Kikumaru said, bouncing a bit in his chair. “I wanna play!”

“There’s probably some extra racquets around,” Inui mused, and he looked to Tezuka, waiting for his decision.

“It might be nice to get a couple of games in,” the former captain mused. 

“But first we should eat,” Fuji said, and he looked at Kikumaru’s plate. “Eat your salad, Eiji.”

Kikumaru sighed as he stabbed a tomato vengefully. “Everyone is so mean to me.”

“It’s because we care,” Oishi said.

Kikumaru’s grin was brilliant in response. “That almost makes it worth eating lettuce.”


	5. Where Did I Lose You Along the Way?

They seemed so young.

It was the first thought that crossed Oishi’s mind as he stared at the current Seigaku middle school team. _We were once that young,_ he reminded himself. Now, they were all men fighting thirty and on the verge of losing, staring through the fence thoughtfully at the courts that had once been their reason for living.

Kikumaru stood next to him, his hands shoved into the light spring jacket he had donned before leaving, his expression thoughtful as he watched the team go through a drill that looked very like one that Inui had invented long ago. “We had fun, didn’t we?” he asked wistfully.

“We did,” Oishi agreed softly. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Tezuka studying the boy who was most likely the current captain intently, a slight frown on his face. “I’m sure they’re not as good as we were.”

“Do you still play?” Kawamura asked from where he was standing at the end of the line, next to Fuji, whose expression was still fixed in a pleasant smile. “I want to teach Ichirou, but I haven’t held a racquet in years. No time.”

Fuji placed a hand on Kawamura’s shoulder reassuringly. “We’ll find time,” he promised. “I need to visit soon, and that sounds like a good activity. There’s nothing I’d rather do than teach your son how to play.” 

“I’m sending my children here,” Kawamura said. “I want them to have the same kind of memories and make the same kind of friends.”

Oishi felt his own hand being squeezed gently, and turned to see Kikumaru grinning at him, his grip firm and warm. The hands didn’t have the calluses Oishi remembered, but then neither did his. His fingers wrapped around Kikumaru’s as he studied the court.

He could almost hear Tezuka ordering them to run twenty laps...

...wait a second, Tezuka was saying that.

“Twenty laps around the court, Momoshiro!”

Their eyes all swiveled to Tezuka, who was standing with his arms over his chest, the posture he had worn whenever he ordered punishment laps. A slight smile tugged at his lips, but that was the only sign he was joking.

“Y-yes, buchou!” a voice stuttered reflectively, and Oishi’s eyes were drawn across the court to where a young man in a track suit had jerked to attention. Then apparently his thoughts caught up with his mouth, and he whirled around, frowning as the kids laughed at seeing their coach act like a school boy.

“Tezuka-buchou?” he said in disbelief. Momoshiro stared at the line of men along the far fence, rubbed his eyes once, before a grin broke out on his features. “You guys came!”

The students hushed as their coach turned and looked at them. “These are my senpai,” he said. “If you practice really hard, you might get to be nearly as good as they were.”

Kikumaru bounced over to Tezuka and draped an arm around his captain, grinning up at the taller man. Oishi tried not to miss the warmth of the redhead’s hand as he watched his former partner tease the lawyer. “That nearly was funny.”

“How do you know I wasn’t serious?”

“Nyah! Such a party pooper, buchou!”

They made their way around the court, feeling all eyes on them as they finally reached the entrance. Momoshiro walked over at an unhurried pace and Kikumaru untangled himself from Tezuka before launching himself at Momoshiro, practically tackling the younger man in a hug that rocked him off his feet.

“Eiji-senpai!” Momoshiro said, and the hug was full-heartedly returned. “How have you been?”

Kikumaru began to talk, his hands flying as he pulled back, and Oishi let himself drift, pretending just for a moment that they were back in middle school, and Kaidou and Ryoma were just around the corner, being their usual anti-social selves. Any moment now Tezuka would order them all together for a drill or practice matches, and Momoshiro and Kikumaru would stop horsing around and become serious, determined to beat whoever was the rival of that particular time... Fudoumine or Hyotei or Rikkai or whoever it was. They would win, because things were simple like that, and they were the good guys.

He was doing that a lot lately, pretending.

Why was that? he wondered, but then smiled as Kikumaru waved a finger in Momoshiro’s face reprimandingly.

It was Momoshiro this time who reminded him that those times were long gone. He raked a band through hair which was so short Oishi could see his scalp and turned to the young teens who were still gawking at them. “Yo, chibis! C’mere!”

The players came from all over the court, and to Oishi’s amazement, formed neat enough lines. He’d never really thought of Momoshiro as the authority type, but hadn’t they all done the same for Ryuuzaki? He chided himself for lack of faith in his kohai, realizing that Momoshiro must have earned the teenager’s respect many times over.

He would have had to, to coach Seigaku.

One of them, wearing a regular’s jersey, approached Momoshiro. He was a bit shorter than five and a half feet tall, but serious eyes regarded the intruders from under black hair that was just a touch too long. The boy paused a respectful three feet short of their group, his hand loosely gripping a racket as he examined them.

This was obviously the current captain. There was an aura about him, one which Tezuka still wore like a cloak, that breathed authority, and from the way the others were casting slight looks at him, it was clear that they would follow this boy’s lead.

“Suzuki Kimihiro, the current captain of Seigaku,” Momoshiro said, and the smile that tugged on his lips was the one that had made him known as Seigaku’s rascal in his time. “Meet your senpai.”

Suzuki bowed, a precise genuflection that was just deep enough for respect but nothing more. Inui smirked a bit, and Kikumaru choked back a laugh.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” he said. “Momo-sensei?” he asked, and the slight question in his voice made it clear he was wondering what they were doing here.

“Their class is holding a reunion, and I invited them over to demonstrate a few things,” Momoshiro said, a wicked light in his eye. “Maybe if you guys pay attention, you might beat Rikkai this year. I really, really want to beat them this time.”

“Demonstrate?” Oishi choked, looking over at the others to see if they had known.

Predictably, only Inui looked like he was in on the plan, but Fuji and Tezuka were unruffled, and Kikumaru was excited. Leaving him and Kawamura to be the voices of reason...

...until Momoshiro shoved a racket into Kawamura’s hand.

“Come _on_ baby! It’s time to show these weak little boys what tennis is about! _Burning!_ ”

Everyone stepped back, and Oishi sighed, feeling himself opened wide to humiliation. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Weren’t we going to play anyway?” Kikumaru said, and suddenly he was back, tugging on Oishi’s hands. “C’mon, think of it! The Golden Pair, together again!”

“I only play on the weekends, and...” Oishi began to hem, but Kikumaru wasn’t having any of it.

“I want to play with you again,” he said, and his lip firmed in a stubborn fashion. “You were the best partner I ever had.”

Tezuka and Fuji were already stripping off their jackets, and a snickering Momoshiro was gesturing to some of his players to hand over their rackets. A boy, who looked barely old enough to be a first year, came up to Oishi and offered his racket, his eyes a bit wide. “Here you go,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice.

He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he accepted it, noting the “T” it was emblazoned with. His racket was back at his apartment, worn well to his hand, and he knew that this one would probably feel awkward.

Kikumaru turned to the child who had offered him a racket, began a chipper conversation about grip tape and string tension, and Oishi stared at him, watching how the youth relaxed within moments of Kikumaru’s long babbling spiel.

“He’s good with kids, isn’t he?” Fuji said, materializing right beside Oishi.

Oishi was still uneasy around Fuji, and hoped it didn’t show as he gave a weak smile. A few other first years were starting to gather around the red head, who was cheerfully offering advice and answering questions. “He’s always been good with those who are younger than he was, probably because he acts younger than he is. The eternal Peter Pan.”

Fuji sighed softly. “Are you seeing what’s there, or what you want to see?”

Oishi blinked, turning to the tensai. “What?”

“The Kikumaru you’re seeing right now is all in your head,” Fuji said softly. “Even Eiji had to grow up, and it was harder for him than the rest of us, because he wasn’t prepared how cruel the real world can be.”

“W-what?” Oishi stuttered, repeating himself.

“Stop looking for what you want to see, and start looking at the truth,” Fuji advised quietly. His eyes were open, and he turned away, calling to Kawamura. “Taka-san, do you want to play doubles? Oishi and Eiji are going to need someone to play against.”

Kikumaru grinned and gave Fuji a thumbs-up. “I’m going to show them my acrobatics!” he said cheerily.

Patterns were what Fuji had been warning Oishi about falling into, but as he took the court behind Kikumaru, he couldn’t help but watch in satisfaction as his partner took the middle position, bending low.

Australian formation, something they had done time and time again. Fuji and Kawamura, on the other side of the net, seemed a bit disconcerted that the Golden Pair was starting out like this, still completely trusting the other, but Fuji’s serve wasn’t as all hesitant.

And then he was falling into the past, and there was nothing but tennis and his partner, and knowing that they were the Golden Pair, and that they never lost, not when it really mattered. Oishi knew where Kikumaru would be, better than he had anyone else he’d played with since. Kikumaru was still quick on his feet, and the two Kikumaru beams he had launched were devastating.

It wasn’t that Fuji and Kawamura were poor opponents — hardly that. But they were the Golden Pair, and no one could beat them, not when they were...

Oishi frowned as he noticed Kikumaru return one of Kawamura’s heavy shots. The chef was remembering how to play quickly, and with Fuji to cover, it was clear that they were still viable as players.

But something about Kikumaru’s footwork seemed off. Oishi watched Kikumaru return the next two volleys before it slowly dawned on him. For some reason, Kikumaru wasn’t flying anymore.

He remembered the times that Kikumaru had been worn down by worthy opponents, but this wasn’t the same. Kikumaru seemed more cautious, as though afraid to commit himself to the splendid feats of showmanship that had been so much a part of his style. They were still there, in more restrained fashioned, but Kikumaru’s feet seemed to have forgotten the joy he had always embodied to Oishi.

As they played, Oishi realized that something had to have changed, deeply, for Kikumaru to forget how free the air made him feel.

They won that game, but as they went to the sidelines to accept the towels that were being eagerly proffered.

“Water?” Oishi offered, holding out the water bottle he’d been given and trying to ask Kikumaru with his eyes what was wrong. Once they had been able to talk like that, by merely changing expression, and if Kikumaru hadn’t changed that much, he would know.

Kikumaru saw Oishi’s concern, and his lips tightened for a second before a smile bloomed on his face. “I have my own!” Kikumaru said cheerfully. “Thanks, though!”

It felt like being slugged in the stomach. For the first time ever, Kikumaru Eiji had deliberately shut Oishi Syuichiroh out.


	6. Something Sad Remains

He didn’t get a chance to talk to Kikumaru alone until late that night. He half thought it was through intentional, since all of the sudden they had been in the whirl of alumni activities, and Oishi was a less-than-enthusiastic participant as their small group intimacy was lost among the larger class gathering.

Oishi felt a bit dragged out by the forced togetherness with people he had hardly spoken to during his high school years. He had never been particularly outgoing, but Kikumaru had, and in trying to stay with him, Oishi found himself being tired out.

That night, the class had chosen to throw a “back to the 80’s” party, with music and clothes from that period, since they all had been born during that decade. None of them were really familiar with 80’s music and the dancing wasn’t particularly apt for that time period, but the rhythm throbbed in the back of Oishi’s skull as the strobe lights flickered at a blinding pace. A few of their classmates had elected to wear the truly memorable fashions of the era, but Oishi was relieved that it wasn’t required. He thought he would have looked horrible in most of what the men who had decided to dress up were.

Fuji and Tezuka had chosen not to attend this gathering, and Kawamura had returned home to his wife, promising to bring her back for the last day of activities since they had a babysitter and she was feeling better. Inui had arrived with them, but quickly been absorbed by the organizing committee for some task or other, so it was only him and Kikumaru.

Oishi followed him all night, watching whenever Kikumaru was persuaded to join a woman on the dance floor, joining him as a quiet shadow whenever Kikumaru pulled away to the sides for a conversation with someone, and waiting for Kikumaru to finally decide to end the evening so they could return to their room. A few of the bolder women tried to persuade Oishi onto the floor, but Oishi politely deferred, explaining that he didn’t dance. They pouted at him, but unlike when he was in high school, he had learned to let others deal with their disappointment. 

Kikumaru flirted freely with the women who found him as fascinating as they had in high school. A few of the husbands who had been acquired through out the intervening years gave him dirty looks before the red head smiled and bounced away, forgetting about whomever he had been paying attention within seconds. He flitted around like a butterfly, not concentrating at all and Oishi wondered where he got the energy from.

What really amazed Oishi, though, was Kikumaru’s easy manner and the way he was able to pin names to whoever he was talking to, even if they had neglected to wear the name tags that they had been issued the night before.

“Kiriko-chan, you’ve gotten even prettier! If you hadn’t gotten married, I’d be trying to persuade you to abandon the party and go out and have a private drink,” Kikumaru said to a woman who had put on a few pounds from having children, but there was sincerity in his voice. Oishi hadn’t even recognized the former slender cheerleader in the plump housewife, but there had been no hesitation in Kikumaru’s greeting, and plenty of genuine warmth.

She blushed, and her husband smiled and wrapped a possessive hand around her waist. “You’re too sweet, Eiji-san. You always were, though. I’m afraid having the twins made me lose my girlish figure.”

“That’s why you’re prettier. You glow with happiness,” Kikumaru replied. Oishi stood at his side, watching as the woman demurred, but her husband produced a string of photos the length of his arm and began to display the images with paternal pride.

“This is right before Yuri took her first step. Of course, Yume wasn’t that far behind.”

Kikumaru was still, listening with intense interest as the pair talked of the joys of child rearing, and every now and then he asked a question, setting off fresh verbal tirades. He ignored the excitement of the dance around him in favor of a quiet conversation with a couple whose lives revolved around their children.

Oishi frankly found it painfully dull, but Kikumaru was enthralled. He didn’t understand what was so interesting about it, but Kikumaru finally waved a hand in farewell as the couple saw someone else they simply had to speak to with a satisfied smile on his face.

“They’re such a beautiful couple,” he said, and a slightly wistful look crossed his face.

“Hmm,” was all Oishi could find to say. He would have rather spent the time trying to pry information out of Kikumaru or hanging out with Fuji or Tezuka, but both of them had wisely made themselves scared. 

Kikumaru looked away for a second. “It’s nice to see a happy family,” he said. “Sometimes it seems like they don’t exist.”

Something stuck a chord in Oishi. “Don’t you work with children?”

“Yes,” Kikumaru said. “Social services.” Then the red head noticed another long-lost acquaintance and was off again, and Oishi followed in his wake.

The slight pause was enough to give Oishi plenty to think on. He had never really considered what his friend did for a living, merely letting himself be satisfied with the fact that Kikumaru had been able to make a successful career... but what kind of career was it, really?

Kikumaru had always been painfully extroverted, deriving tremendous amounts of energy from being around others, but apparently some of the changes had made him become more extroverted. The whirling dervish that was Oishi’s friend faltered now and then, something that never would have happened in high school. 

Another subtle change, but Oishi could have sworn he saw Eiji brace himself once or twice, taking a deep breath before plunging back into the midst of the large party. His laughter, while not forced, wasn’t as ready as it had once been.

He seemed to be tiring more easily, and once or twice he flinched away from some of the louder, more vulgar members of the class before finally coming up with the playful comebacks that so many expected of him. No one really seemed to notice the difference in him, with many saying in satisfaction that Kikumaru was “the same old Eiji!”

He wasn’t! Oishi wanted to exclaim.

Eventually, even the loudest party had to wind down. The gathering began to thin a little after one, and Kikumaru seemed to notice the retreating ranks right around the time Oishi was about to declare defeat. Oishi was having a hard time keeping his thoughts straight, and despite only taking two drinks, his head felt fuzzy from fatigue and weariness.

Kikumaru returned from the performing a truly impressive dance displace with a former classmate that showed that he was still quite capable of the acrobatic moves that made him so famous on the tennis court. Oishi held out a glass of punch he had retrieved while his former partner had been on the floor, which Kikumaru accepted with a nod of thanks. Gulping it down, the redhead wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand before turning to look at the door. Oishi nodded, in relief, and they fled.

The Ah-Un synchronization that they had worked so hard on remained in shadowed forms.

The elevator ride upstairs was a quiet one, with Oishi slowly regaining his clarity of thought while Kikumaru leaned drowsily against a wall. He seemed half-asleep and entirely vulnerable, and Oishi felt guilty about the impeding confrontation he was about to inspire. 

But he needed to know. 

Kikumaru had once been the person he trusted most, and he owed it to him.

When they reached their room, Oishi opened the door and waited for Kikumaru to precede him.

Oishi wondered how to broach the subject, but Kikumaru spoke first.

“It was a good party,” Kikumaru said with quiet satisfaction, a dreamy smile playing on his lips. “It was nice to see everyone so happy.”

“I wonder,” Oishi said quietly.

“Wonder what?” Kikumaru asked curiously, tilting his head in the fashion that meant he, too, was becoming more alert.

Sometimes, Oishi knew, the best thing to do was to confront people head-on. “Are you happy?”

Kikumaru’s eyelashes fluttered a few times as he processed the question. “I’m very happy to see you!” he said, waving it off.

“Eiji.”

Oishi spoke in a tone he had learned while Tezuka was away in junior high, the voice which didn’t accept jokes or evasion, but demanded the truth. He used it rarely, but the command inherent in it was undeniable.

It was strange, to see Kikumaru go so pale. Even though he was a natural red head, Kikumaru didn’t have the fair coloring that was often associated with the hair color. His purple eyes looked feverish in his bloodless face as he sat heavily on the bed, before a slight smile pulled at his lips. “You know, I’ve been waiting for you to ask that. I knew you’d notice.”

Oishi came over and slid beside him, turning to face Kikumaru so their knees were touching and he could grab Kikumaru’s hands. They were cold, and Oishi rubbed them in an attempt to warm them up. “What happened?” he asked.

“I screwed up.” Kikumaru took a deep breath, and his smile faltered a little, even though it remained. “I kind of fell into my job. I had no clue what I wanted to do, so I took some courses here and there, and while I was in my third year, a professor suggested I try a few internships.

“One of them was at a local youth center, and I really liked it. I like working with kids, and they liked me. So I started of thinking of working with kids, maybe doing something to help them. Somehow it ended up as social work.”

Oishi had known that Kikumaru had probably not chosen what he did intentionally, so the way he had wound up where he was wasn’t surprising. “It sounds like a good choice,” he said. 

“I thought so,” Kikumaru said. “But it’s not easy. I work in the foster care system. I’m a caseworker, and we have a really high burn out rate.”

Oishi wasn’t quite sure what caseworkers did. He had images of them taking kids away from abusive homes to places where they were safe, but that was about all. “If you don’t like your job, change it.”

Kikumaru sighed, and pulled his hands away. “It’s not that simple.” His head turned toward the wall, and Oishi couldn’t read the eyes which had always been so expressive. “Someone has to do it, Oishi. And I’m needed there.”

Oishi waited, knowing that Kikumaru was going to elaborate. Seeing the one he had always thought of as carefree look so intense was strange. Oishi had never thought that Kikumaru would take anything seriously.

But wasn’t he serious about tennis? Wasn’t he serious about his friends? Kikumaru had always had the ability to care, and apparently his job brought that slumbering ability to the surface.

“There’s not enough men doing the work, and sometimes it’s dangerous to send a woman into some of the homes alone. So I’ll go with one of my coworkers to keep them safe, even though it’s not required. We do a lot of visitations to places that I wouldn’t let a dog live at, let alone a person. And sometimes the boys won’t talk to a woman, so I work better with them.” A slight smile came to his face, and he turned back to Oishi. “But I screwed up. I let myself care too much for one of them.”

“Eiji?” Oishi asked, feeling frightened. Something about the way Kikumaru was speaking was foreign, and to Oishi, who had once known all of his partner’s various moods, it was unsettling to see a Kikumaru who spoke with a world-weary tiredness in his eyes, and whose smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“His name was Souji, and he was fourteen. I met him when he was eleven. He was in and out of the system constantly. But I liked him, because he’d listen to me, because I listened to him.”

“Was? What happened?” Oishi asked, grabbing Kikumaru’s hands again.

“He wasn’t right in the head, but he needed me. I was the only adult who cared for him, and he clung to me because of that. But...” Kikumaru paused, and haunted purple eyes turned to Oishi. “He died. He got hold of a razor someone had left in the bathroom at his foster home, and he slit his wrists and ankles.” Kikumaru’s voice was flat, like someone reciting a fact that really wasn’t affecting him.

Oishi winced. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, unable to think of anything else to say.

Kikumaru’s fingers were limp. “That’s what everyone tells themselves. I went to the funeral, and there were less than twenty people there. Souji didn’t have any classmates who really knew him, and he never was able to stay in a home longer than six months. But if it wasn’t my fault, then whose was it?”

Oishi didn’t know what to say to offer comfort. He hadn’t anticipated anything like this, and as he looked at the one who was once so full of laughter and confidence he realized that he had underestimated Kikumaru. He hadn’t given him enough credit.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and then he wrapped his arms around Kikumaru, pulling him into a tight embrace. Kikumaru was stiff for a moment before his arms crept around Oishi’s shoulders, and his rested wearily against Oishi’s neck. “Some things we just can’t place blame for.”

“I know that, intellectually. But you can’t tell your heart that, can you?” Kikumaru said, and his muffled voice seemed to vibrate against Oishi’s chest.

Oishi tried to stifle the regret he had at not being there when Kikumaru had needed a friend. “No. You can’t.”


	7. Only Shooting Stars Break the Mold

He didn’t want to let go of Kikumaru - so he didn’t.

It was an unspoken invitation when he hitched over so his friend could find enough room on the bed with him, and Kikumaru leaned in closer in acceptance. They toppled together smoothly still entwined, arms twisting tightly together as they moved toward the center without a word. Kikumaru pressed against him tightly, and Oishi adjusted his grip to keep from losing circulation as Kikumaru settled in. 

Oishi hardly ever shared a bed with anyone. His lovers had been few and far between, and adjusting for someone else’s presence took conscious thought. The feel of a warm body in his arms, holding and being held, was awkward, and he felt his heart racing when Kikumaru shifted so their legs were laced together in an intimate posture that only rightfully belonged to lovers. 

Still dressed, he wondered why he didn’t feel embarrassed; but there could be no embarrassment, not when Kikumaru needed the touch and feel of a friend. The lights were still on, and he knew they should probably turn them off, but he feared that moving would disturb the tenuous understanding they seemed to be reviving.

Kikumaru’s face was tilted slightly down, but Oishi saw the long lashes were shut and he was apparently was relaxing, the confession from moments before having tired him out. His fingers dug into Oishi’s back, and Oishi knew he’d have bruises in the morning. Kikumaru had always been tactile. Reassurance through touch, knowing that someone cared, would mean more to him than anything else.

He carefully thought of nothing, not wanting to dwell on what Kikumaru’s life had been like while he had been away. 

Instead, he concentrated on the rhythm of Kikumaru’s breathing, and strove to match his own to that so he could fall asleep. Tomorrow they would be entering the last day of the reunion, and then they would be parting ways...

And he fell asleep.

Kikumaru wasn’t a calm sleeper. He tossed and turned, and several times his managed to wake Oishi as elbowed and poked. It wasn’t a restful night, but Oishi woke first, feeling guilty and helpless. It was time to stop denying the facts, and accept responsibility.

He stared down at Kikumaru’s slumbering face, which looked so strange with its older features and so familiar at the same time. There seemed to be a modicum of peace in it, but even in sleep the hint of sorrow remained, and it hurt. Kikumaru should have known only laughter, because he was the type who was meant for joy.

He had failed Kikumaru, and not been there when he needed a friend. 

All of their promises, all of their hopes and dreams, hadn’t withstood the test of time. He had conveniently shelved his friend when he had single-mindedly pursued his life. He had forgotten the ties which they had cherished, neglected everything of importance because he was selfish - and Kikumaru had suffered.

He was a horrible friend. He knew Kikumaru, had their positions been reversed, wouldn’t have done the same thing. Had anyone been there for Kikumaru? Had Fuji, had Inui?

Fuji had known, Oishi was sure. Fuji had been trying to get Oishi to pay attention to Kikumaru since the reunion had started, and Oishi had been horribly slow on the uptake. He had known that something was wrong, but hadn’t realized what he should have done, could have done.

And he wondered if there was anything he could do now that he knew the truth. Obviously he couldn’t abandoned Kikumaru again, but that didn’t mean he had an idea how to solve Kikumaru’s problems.

He didn’t know how to save him. 

The clock showed that it was moving on 8:30 a.m., and he realized that he would have to wake up his partner so they could prepare for the last day. Tomorrow there would be a farewell breakfast, but many of the celebrants were leaving tonight after the final banquet.

“We need to get up,” Oishi whispered reluctantly, wondering a bit what type of mood his friend would be in now after the emotional storm of last night. 

Kikumaru’s arm was slung around his waist, the light pressure warm and comforting. He groaned a bit in protest. “Donwanna,” he slurred out, burrowing his face into Oishi’s chest like a trusting child. 

The familiarity in the movement was one that warmed Oishi’s heart greatly, and he couldn’t resist teasing his fingers along Kikumaru’s neck where he knew the redhead was particularly ticklish. “Get up, we have things to do,” Oishi insisted. “Kawamura’s bringing his wife today and Fuji wanted to have a group breakfast, remember?”

The slightly dazed look in Kikumaru’s eyes as his eyes fluttered open was that of someone who wasn’t quite sure where they were. He pulled back and the arm slipped away, and after a second he seemed to realize where and with whom he was with. “Oh!” he exclaimed. 

“Eiji?” Oishi asked in concern, wondering how he would react now.

A slight smile danced on his lips as he stretched slowly, his back arching in a manner similar to that of a cat. “Good morning, Oishi!” he said cheerfully. He rolled off the bed, landing on his feet and bouncing over to the bathroom. “I’ve got the shower!” he exclaimed, ducking in after sticking his tongue out childishly.

Oishi was confused.

The jester’s mask was back. He hadn’t really anticipated that. He had thought that... well, he wasn’t quite sure what Kikumaru’s reaction would be, but his playful teasing certainly wasn’t it. The walls which he had thought breached were back.

He clenched his fist, listening to the hissing of the shower. He wanted to force Kikumaru to be honest, the way he had been last night, but...

He didn’t have the right.

He needed to talk to Fuji. Scary as the thought was, perhaps the tensai would have a suggestion.

* * *

The air between the six friends who gathered for breakfast was tense. Tezuka and Fuji were separated by unspoken agreement by the rest, and Inui had his ear to the cell, murmuring commands to someone on the other end. Oishi caught something about stocks and Martha Stewart, and “not going to be caught in a mess like that” so he wisely decided to keep his ears closed to that one. Kawamura, meanwhile, was cooing over his wife, who was pleasantly round with the seventh month of pregnancy.

Kikumaru found her condition fascinating. “Really? Pickles and peanut butter on ice cream?” he asked the woman.

“Strange craving, isn’t it? But Takashi is so kind. When I was pregnant with Ichirou, he made me a lot of wasabi sushi."

“We’d used to eat a bunch of it together, remember? That was fun,” Fuji chimed in, a smile on his face.

“You were the only ones who thought it was,” Kawamura replied with a shudder. “I thought Ichirou was going to be born holding wasabi.”

The quartet laughed, but Oishi and Tezuka were quiet. Tezuka seemed to be drawing a cloak of isolation around him, the way he did when uncomfortable in a group, and Oishi kept finding his eyes landing on Kikumaru, trying to evaluate him. Oishi usually would have felt guilty that he still hadn’t caught the woman’s name yet.

Inui was muttering that he was not as stupid as an Enron exec, an annoyed frown on his face for whoever was on the other end of the line.

“What do you want?” Kikumaru asked. “Boy or girl?”

“We already had a test done, and he’s going to be a boy,” she replied, and Kawamura gave her a sappy smile. “It doesn’t matter, really, as long as he’s healthy.”

“Indeed. He’ll have wonderful parents,” Kikumaru said. His smile was genuine as Kawamura blushed and the woman shimmered with happiness at the compliments.

It finally came to Oishi, why Kikumaru was so interested in Kawamura’s family and had spoken so happily to Kirika the night before. He’s probably seen so many unhappy families that it makes the ones that are all that much more special, Oishi thought, smiling a bit sadly at the redhead, who was talking about names and suggesting the most ridiculous things, provoking laughter from those who were listening.

“What are we going to do today?” Fuji put in, apparently growing bored with the conversation. “Last day of the reunion, back to real life tomorrow. Luckily I don’t have anything to do until I find a position. Unemployment has its advantages.” He was rather amused at the situation.

His words seemed to sting them all for a moment before Oishi smiled a bit weakly. “I’ll be beginning my position next week. This is my last week of freedom.”

“I took tomorrow off as well,” Tezuka put in unexpectedly. “I was thinking about catching up on some reading I’ve been meaning to do.”

“Why don’t we do something?” Oishi suggested, looking around the table. He could steal an extra day.

Kawamura sighed regretfully. “My father can’t spare me. Taking this weekend was something I shouldn’t have done.”

His wife tut-tutted at him, saying that it had been important.

Kikumaru gave a shake of his head. “I have to go into the office tomorrow afternoon. I’m sure there’s a stack of work just waiting for me - and I don’t think Inui even took this whole weekend off,” he said, his voice a bit amused as his eyes led everyone to look at Inui... who now had a laptop out and was frantically pounding on it as he muttered into the cell about cheese futures and milk prices.

Which left Oishi, Tezuka and Fuji. Exactly the two people who being stuck between would feel like being in the midst of an exothermic reaction.

“I’ll catch up on my reading,” Tezuka said diplomatically. “I think I need some time to recuperated.”

Fuji’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Oishi braced himself for another verbal assault. He wasn’t disappointed. 

“Oishi and I hardly spent any time together in high school. I would think you would take this opportunity to renew the acquaintance since you _were_ , but then again, it’s you we’re talking about, so I shouldn’t be surprised at your antisocial tendencies,” he said, his voice level. 

Tezuka just took a sip of his tea before smiling a bit at Oishi. “I was going to ask for your current address,” he said smoothly, though there was no apology in his voice. 

Fuji snorted a bit rudely and rolled his eyes. “And wait another ten years before contacting him?”

“It takes two to lose contact,” Tezuka said, and his face turned away from Oishi and toward Fuji. Their eyes clashed and Oishi felt like a bone between two ravenous dogs.

“It’s okay, Fuji,” Oishi said a bit lamely. “I wasn’t offended.”

“ _You_ wouldn’t be,” Fuji replied silkily. His smile was polite, but the venom that dripped off his words made Oishi flinched a bit.

“Fuji, lay off,” Kikumaru said softly. “Things happen, and life goes on.”

Everyone turned in surprise to see the normally cheerful redhead staring down the tensai with amazing intensity. This wasn’t like the time when Kikumaru had thrown the drink - no, this was something that Kikumaru meant, and he would stand behind his words.

A slight cough came from the side. Kawamura’s wife seemed to have lost a bit of her joy, as she looked at her husband. “Dear, I think I should be going to lie down. Inui-san, you said I could use your room, right?”

Inui produced a key card without looking up from the laptop and dropped it in her hands. The soft murmur of his conversation filled the silence as the woman scurried away with her husband.

All that remained was the five players, one of whom was so lost in his conversation that the others ignored him.

“Eiji, it’s alright,” Oishi said.

“No, it’s not. I’m tired of people fighting when they don’t have to. I’m tired of seeing things I can’t fix. I’m tired, dammit, and I’m not listening to you destroy yourselves this way!” he exploded, rising to his feet and crumbling his napkin as he leaned forward aggressively.

The three he was accusing of transgressing looked at him in silence. Oishi tried to find something - anything - to say before Fuji could do something, but amazingly it was Tezuka who spoke first.

“Kikumaru, life doesn’t have any happily-ever-afters. We just live, and cope. Some things don’t work out. Fuji and I... we didn’t work out,” he said, a slight hesitation in his speech the only sign that he was uncomfortable with the topic. “We don’t like each other anymore.”

Inui hung up his phone abruptly and Oishi’s jaw dropped simultaneously as Tezuka confessed to the truth of his and Fuji’s relationship. It was one thing to suspect, but another to know. He would have looked over at Fuji, to gauge his expression, but Kikumaru was already talking.

“But you used to love each other!” Kikumaru said, his voice fading to a faint whisper. “I thought... you were so right for each other,” he said. “If I can’t believe in love, what can I believe in?” No one was able to come up with a ready answer for him, and the redhead threw his napkin down. “That’s what I thought,” he said, before spinning around and stalking out of the room.

Oishi rose to follow him, but Inui reached over and caught his sleeve and pulled him back to his seat. “That would be a miscalculation.”

Oishi opened his mouth to tell Inui off, his temper rising, but Fuji poured a glass of ice water and handed it to Oishi. “Stay here, and let him think,” he said. 

“I need-"

“Eiji is stronger than you know. He’s gone through hell and back, and if he can’t find his own truths, he won’t complete the journey.”

“He needs me,” Oishi said, feeling himself 

“No, he doesn’t. He needs to accept reality for what it is,” said Tezuka, surprising in his agreement with the others. Apparently the anger between himself and Fuji had been accepted as a fact of life, something neither would be able to repair. A glass that, once broken, could not be drank from without cutting, but could still hold water.

“But...” he started again, knowing his protest was futile.

“You can’t save him,” Fuji said softly. “He’s the only one who can save himself.”


	8. As Golden Days Break Wondering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features explicit content.

All days must end, and Oishi hadn’t been expecting this one to end like this.

Kikumaru’s mouth was moist and demanding as he pressed kisses along Oishi’s neck, trailing a line from shoulder to nape, around to the front, and over his chin up to where Oishi found himself panting for breath. It was too much, this sensory overload, but a pair of shadowy lavender eyes danced with something mysterious as hands trailed down to the slacks Oishi found suddenly too confining.

 _“Zannen munen mata raishuu,”_ Kikumaru whispered, his voice husky and teasing, as his hands teasingly retreated from where they had been toying with Oishi’s belt buckle. He leaned closer as Oishi’s head spun, trying to orient himself, and figure out what to do, what to say.

He hadn’t seen Kikumaru all day. The redhead, after stalking off, had effectively vanished from the reunion, shunning all company. Despite repeated queries from classmates who had been hoping to see the popular man, Oishi had no answer to where Kikumaru had disappeared. 

Fuji had been his usual infuriating self, and kept Oishi from spending that last day seeking him out. Tezuka and Inui had disappeared soon after Eiji, which left him alone with the tensai. It was strange for Oishi, because despite their mutual friendship with Kikumaru, neither of them had been close to the other. Both of them had taken turns steadying the acrobatic player of Seigaku, but their philosophies were vastly different. 

“Let him think. Even Eiji likes time to himself,” Fuji said as he pushed himself away from the table after draining his orange juice. 

“That’s the problem. He’s had too much time to himself,” Oishi replied, his guilty conscience gnawing at him like termites in an oak forest. Kikumaru has been gone for a good half an hour, and usually would have calmed down by now. _Maybe…_

“I think you have, too,” Fuji said softly. Slivers of blue appeared from underneath his long lashes, and Oishi knew the tensai was about to unleash a stinger. “You’ve forgotten that sometimes it’s our individual struggles that make us stronger.”

“But then we come together as a team,” Oishi said. He remembered those games, when he had been injured and Eiji had been forced to play with a different partner, without Oishi’s reliable support. Those had been the times when the redhead had grown the most, but he had always returned to Oishi, like a bird returning home to the roost. 

He rose to his feet, intending on finding Kikumaru now that he’d had some time to cool down, but Fuji nipped at his heels. Moving through the hotel complex, Oishi heard others call greetings and invitations, but he couldn’t find the familiar face he sought. Behind him, Fuji followed faithfully, remaining thankfully silent until they found themselves in the narrower hallways that led to the guest rooms.

“Tell me, Oishi, do you really think that Kikumaru needs you? Or is it you who needs him to need you?”

Oishi opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but Fuji moved closer, cornering Oishi against the wall. His sharp-featured face was no more than six inches away from Oishi’s own. “Sometimes we freeze people in the past because we don’t want to admit our own weaknesses.” Fuji’s warm breath brushed against Oishi’s cheek as he leaned up on his toes to whisper in Oishi’s ear. “Think on it. Eiji grew up, but did you?”

Oishi’s reaction was instinctive; he shoved Fuji back from him, his hands pushing Fuji squarely in the chest as he attempted to get away from the other man. Fuji managed to catch his balance before falling, and casually smoothed his clothes as though nothing was wrong. “Leave me alone,” Oishi said.

“Leave Eiji alone, until he comes to you,” Fuji said warningly. His voice, always so deceptively gentle, lingered in the air as he turned to walk away. 

Oishi leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, as he tried to sort his thoughts out. Fuji was correct, and Tezuka had been earlier, in that Kikumaru needed to be able to solve his own problems – but that didn’t make it any easier. Oishi wondered if he was the one who needed to learn, if he couldn’t let Kikumaru be.

The day seemed impossibly long, and even with Inui’s company, Oishi found himself unable to enjoy himself. Kawamura and his wife were comparing notes with other young couples, and Tezuka and Fuji had once again absented themselves. It was Kikumaru’s missing presence, though, that made Oishi feel alone. 

Inui watched the assemblage of their past, and Oishi knew he was mentally cataloguing the display – who had changed, who hadn’t. Who the winners and losers were. As they were approached, it was Inui who led the conversations, providing a merciful shield to Oishi.

“It will all be over tomorrow,” Inui said to him toward the end of the evening. He offered a fluted champagne glass. “The final toast is coming up,” he said.

It was with reluctance that he took the glass. Oishi hadn’t had anything to drink, despite all the booze which flowed like water. He could see quite a few people working on hangovers for the next day, but he knew that if he was going to get up early in the morning, he would need to maintain a clear head.

Inui smiled his approval. “Just be glad it’s not Penal Tea,” he teased.

“Right now you could feed me a shot of that and I probably wouldn’t notice. Where is he?” he asked.

“He’ll be here,” Inui promised. “Remember, Kikumaru always has a second wind.”

Yes, he did – but would it be too late to make any difference?

The chime of someone knocking a fork against fine crystal drew their attention to the center of the room. Tezuka stood among a crowd of admirers, and Oishi wondered when he had come down and why he hadn’t come over so they could spend a few more precious moments together.

Using his forefinger, Tezuka pushed his glasses back to settle them more securely on the bridge of his nose as the room stilled. Everyone’s eyes fell on him but Tezuka stood taller than almost all of them and was apparently unbothered by the attention. When he spoke, his voice carried throughout the room easily, though he made no attempt to pitch it louder than usual.

“I hope everyone has had a wonderful time, renewing old friendships and maybe making a few new friends,” Tezuka said. “We should give credit to the Reunion Committee, led by Kusanagi Reika, for their wonderful programs.” Polite applause met his pause, before he continued. “I’m sure that you don’t want to listen to me, but here’s to the past ten years – and I’ll see you in 2025.” He held up his glass, and everyone drank, reveling in the toast.

Then Tezuka sat down, leaving a sense of anticlimactic feeling in his wake.

Muteness assaulted them for a second as the class paused, unsure of what to do. They had obviously been expecting more of a speech, but Tezuka had never been one for words. Then there was another clang as someone fervently tapped their glass, _chime! chime! chime! - CRASH!_

Kikumaru looked embarrassed as he held the shattered remains of his glass. Shards of glass littered the floor, glittering in the low light like carelessly scattered stars, but miraculously Kikumaru seemed uninjured. 

“Oi, that’s not good,” he muttered, before snatching a spare off a conveniently passing waiter. “Maybe I should get to where you can see me.” He athletically jumped on the nearest table, kicking over a few glasses, and one rolled off the table, shattering in the silence. “Oops again. Um, can everyone see me?”

A resounding “yes!” was yelled back at him, and Kikumaru grinned, bowing as a few well-intentioned former classmates hooted and cheered him on. Everyone had known him; his popularity in high school was still remembered, and it seemed like everyone wanted to hear what the impetuous Kikumaru had to say.

Oishi’s eyes drank the sight of his partner like he was fine champagne himself. The redhead was dressed in a suit but had his tie half-off, and his bright smile was mischievous, with no sign of the morning’s upsets on his grinning visage. “Sorry for interrupting, but it’s seems like Tezuka-buchou hasn’t changed. We learned long ago not to ask him to speak unless we wanted to hear ‘30 laps!’ yelled back!”

Laughter bubbled through the intoxicated gathering. Kikumaru laughed gaily, raising his cup. “So let’s do this right! Let me start the toasts by thanking you all for coming – and thank the reunion committee for their excellent taste in liquor! It was well worth coming, if only for the booze!” he said, raising his glass and downing a hearty swallow. 

“Hear, hear!” others seconded, and Tezuka’s expression turned slightly sour at being teased and Kikumaru’s flamboyance. 

Oishi wondered how drunk Kikumaru was. He couldn’t see a flush on the redhead’s cheeks, but perhaps he was too far away.

“Secondly, let’s toast to ourselves! Let’s hear it for the class of 2005 – we made it! Not only did we graduate, but we managed to find lives. Some of them are probably better than others, but we’re surviving in the real world! So here’s to us.” Kikumaru took another sip, smaller this time, before speaking again.

His voice was more solemn, and the room quieted as he spoke more quietly. A few had to lean forward, straining to hear. “Finally, let’s hear it for our friends. I’m told that Takanagi Fuka died three years ago of cancer. I remember her as a girl with a pretty smile and a loud cheer. I dated her once, and though it didn’t work out, I really wish she was here with us tonight.”

“To Takanagi Fuka,” Tezuka said, finally agreeing with some of Kikumaru’s ramblings. “Let’s remember her, and hope that everyone is here in ten years.” 

“And hope everyone is healthy and happy,” Kikumaru added before people could finish the salute. “Remember your old friends as you move through life, and cherish the memories – and maybe even take them with you.”

Kikumaru’s eyes found Oishi, and Oishi raised his glass, nodding. 

“To the memories!” Kikumaru said, and finished off his glass to the silent room. Then he gave a “V” and jumped in the air, managing a beautiful flip that had him landing to the cheers of his classmates.

Oishi, though, was quiet. Apparently Kikumaru had made some kind of decision – but what?

Kikumaru ignored the glare Tezuka gave him as he walked through the gauntlet of his classmates to where Oishi stood beside Inui. Oishi watched, knowing that he had to let Kikumaru dictate the tenor of this meeting. 

There wasn’t a trace of hesitation as Kikumaru embraced him, in front of the crowd. A few people watched with quirked eyebrows, mainly strangers who had married their classmates, and hurried explanations were whispered about the Golden Pair of the Seigaku Tennis Club.

A few people cheered them on, but most were breaking away when it became apparent the floorshow was over. Oishi, though, merely wrapped his arms around Kikumaru’s shoulders and ignored everything else, clinging to his partner, knowing that tomorrow would be coming all too soon.

“Wonderful speech,” he murmured as he pulled back, only to be stopped as Kikumaru twined his fingers tightly through his own. 

“Can we talk?” Kikumaru asked. “Maybe in our room?”

Oishi glanced around, noting the smirks which were being cast in their direction. “Um, no, no,“ he said, “that’s fine.”

Kikumaru’s grin was infection, evoking Oishi’s shyer smile in reply as he dragged him from the room. 

It was different from the first night of the reunion. Instead of racing away in terror, this was a rather joyful escape, a giddy feeling of anticipation welling inside of Oishi’s stomach as he looked at the way Kikumaru’s lips were curved in a slight smile. 

No words were exchanged, but neither did they let their hands drop, as they finished their flight. Kikumaru dealt with the door, and Oishi preceded him, before turning around and waiting for his friend.

“Eiji-“ he said, “are you okay?”

Kikumaru motioned for Oishi to sit on the bed, which Oishi did willingly. “I’m fine.” He sat next to Oishi, turning so their knees were pressing together. “I had a lot of time to think today.”

“And?”

“I thought on things, about my life, and about what I wanted from life, about what I regretted, and…”

“And?”

The quicksilver Kikumaru grinned playfully, and then Oishi found the redhead’s arms around his neck, and warm, soft lips toying with his own. He gasped in surprise, and Kikumaru took that as an invitation for his tongue. It was a heady sensation, the taste of Kikumaru and fine champagne racing along his taste buds as the warm tongue caressed his own. 

He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected the advance. He had always thought somewhere in the back of his mind that Kikumaru was as straight as a line on a tennis court, that he would never think to look at his partner in a sexual way. But the hands which were drifting to his belt, rubbing in a way that was unquestionably sexual, and Oishi tilted his head back in a desperate attempt to find some oxygen. 

Kikumaru took that as an invitation to nibble Oishi’s smooth neck, trailing kisses and lips enticingly along as he finally found a belt buckle. “Zannen munen mata raishuu,” he teased after pressing against Oishi once with the palm of his hand before pulling back to stare at the other man.

“Eiji,” Oishi managed to finally say, feeling the room spin and the surreal enviroment suddenly close around him. “What… what around you doing?” he asked, in one last struggle for sanity.

“I’m making sure there’s no more regrets,” Kikumaru whispered, before leaning his weight into a long, drugging kiss that involved lots of tongue and saliva. Lips provoked and promised, with teeth grazing roughly when Oishi didn’t reply quickly enough.

Oishi decided to forget about reason, and his hands fumbled for the buttons on Kikumaru’s shirt, one, two, three… then pop! The others came off, and he spared only a second to wonder if it would be cheaper to repair or replace the shirt before the expanse of smooth, pale flesh was exposed to his eyes. His hands greedily traversed the territory, causing delighted exclamations and encouragement before Kikumaru attacked his shirt, and managed to deal with it in a matter of seconds. 

It wasn’t a burst of passion, but of rediscovery as they explored bodies they had once seen daily in the locker room. Kikumaru liked to nip and then kiss as he trailed his way down, lower toward the belt he had previously ignored. This time his hands played merry havoc as they slowly undid the buckle.

Oishi felt sweat beading on his skin as Kikumaru slid the belt off. “What do you want, Eiji?”

“I want to make love to you. I’ve been fucked, but I want to know what love feels like,” Kikumaru said. He nuzzled against the bulge in Oishi’s pants. “I spent the happiest times I can remember with you. I want another good memory.”

Oishi wanted to be reasonable, but he was only human. Having someone stroke him, touch him… it had been too long since his last lover, and Kikumaru looked like sex personified, a sleek and smooth body ready to be warmed up and spread out and driven into. The idea of feeling the warmth of Kikumaru made him harder than he’d ever been.

He fumbled for his zipper, and Kikumaru’s hands were there as well, easing down the too-tight pants and briefs. Then Kikumaru smiled playfully, and Oishi groaned, knowing what was coming.

It was a light, tentative exploration. Kikumaru’s pointed tongue traced the tip of Oishi’s cock, once, twice, before running along the underside of his length before moving upwards again. His right hand wrapped around Oishi as he steadied himself, but the other found time to work his partner’s testicles.

It was exquisite, and one of the most pleasurable things Oishi had ever felt. It took all his control not to come right then, but this wasn’t what Kikumaru had asked for. He had wanted to feel loved.

“Not like this,” Oishi murmured, pulling himself back reluctantly, and moving Kikumaru away as well. 

Kikumaru blinked at him a bit owlishly. “Hmm?” he asked, still a bit dazed. He was obviously still caught up in the thrill of power he’d experienced.

Oishi stripped out of his clothes completely before turning to Kikumaru. “I’m going to explore your entire body, and then I’m going to make it mine,” he promised, unaware of how permanent those words sounded. “I’m going to lick or kiss every inch of you before I take you, long and slow,” he promised, tapping Kikumaru’s chest lightly to push him back onto the bed.

He settling down at Kikumaru’s feet, and proceeded to work his way up, starting at Kikumaru’s feet, rubbing them gently to relieve some of the strain of the long day before kissing his toes. Then he moved, massaging and kissing before reaching Kikumaru’s lower calves, where he starting to alternate kisses with long, slow laps of his tongue.

When he reached the thigh, Kikumaru’s hands grabbed for Oishi’s head, twining fingers into the black hair. “Please,” he said, trying to move Oishi closer to his erection. 

Oishi shook his head. “I don’t break my promises,” he replied, dropping a kiss on the thigh before continuing on his way up.

Kikumaru’s smooth chest shuddered as Oishi’s lips played with his nipples, teasing them into erect peaks. A light nip, and then Oishi began to kiss Kikumaru’s shoulder’s and finally deposited a series of light, loving pecks on his partner’s face before nudging Kikumaru’s mouth gently and demanding access.

His hand found Kikumaru’s cock, and he took it firmly and began to pump it gently as his mouth made love to Kikumaru’s. Their tongues dueled playfully for a minute before Kikumaru gasped and drew back, placing a hand on Oishi’s to forestall any further movement.

“I want you inside me,” he said. 

It was one of the hardest things to do, pulling back from a fiercely aroused Kikumaru to seek lubrication, but he wouldn’t hurt him in being stupid enough to take him dry. He stumbled to the bathroom, looking for something to use, and he heard Kikumaru laugh.

The courtesy lotion he found wouldn’t have been his first choice, but it would have to do. He hadn’t expected to have a lover, let alone Kikumaru, on this trip, and hadn’t packed anything more appropriate. He turned away, but then saw a tube of lube and condoms sitting by Kikumaru’s shaving kit, and frowned.

Kikumaru had planned this. 

_I’m making sure there’s no more regrets._

Apparently Kikumaru had been serious about that.

Almost as an afterthought, Oishi grabbed one of the condoms, reminding himself that ten years separated this Kikumaru from the one he knew in high school.

_I’ve been fucked, but I want to know what love feels like._

He hated the thought of anyone knowing Kikumaru like this.

Turning, he made his way back to the bedroom, only to find Kikumaru sprawled on the bed, arranged with a pillow beneath his backside as he spread his legs. It was sexy and trusting, and Oishi took a deep breath to calm himself. He needed control to keep from slamming into the redhead like a randy teenager.

The lube was cool on his fingers, and he waited a second for it to warm before tentatively approaching. “Eiji…”

“I know,” he said. “But you’ll be gentle.” 

Kikumaru’s trust almost broke Oishi. His hands shook for a second before he finally took a finger and circled the ring of muscles that was exposed to his sight. Kikumaru shuddered at the feather-like touch that became more confidant after no complaint was heard.

Oishi dipped the first finger in, stretching Kikumaru carefully with a circular motion. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Kikumaru replied, moving his hips. “Give me another finger,” he demanded.

A bit more lube, and a second finger, and Kikumaru squirmed a bit but made no complaint. Then the third, and Oishi waited a second as his lover’s body became used to the intrusion before he began to slide them in and out, angling them slightly as he searched for the prostate.

Kikumaru groaned as he pushed against Oishi’s touch, begging for more. Oishi oblidged, sending his fingers to work again and was rewarded with the sight of a drop of precum on Kikumaru’s cock. Unable to resist, he bent he head to taste it, and Kikumaru shuddered, just a step away from coming.

Oishi pulled his fingers out and wiped them on a tissue from the night table before settling himself in between Kikumaru’s legs. He groaned when Kikumaru’s hands helped roll on the condom, and he had to steady his breathing when Kikumaru grabbed the lube and spread extra onto both Oishi’s cock and his own anus before spreading his legs and offering a welcoming smile.

“Eiji,” Oishi whispered, before managing to slide into the rings of muscles were hot and tight and seemed to be made for him.

Kikumaru managed to catch Oishi’s mouth with his own, so it was impossible for Oishi to say what he wanted to, about how this was what had been missing from his life, about anything. All there was the squeeze of Kikumaru’s muscles as the redhead came, and Oishi’s own explosion seconds later, and whiteness as they fell together, entwined and in sync for the first time in years.


	9. And That Has Made All the Difference

The sound of the shower woke Oishi, bringing a sense of deja vu to the young doctor. The sheets clung to his naked body uncomfortably as he blinked slowly, realizing that he was alone in bed, after having slept with the man who had once been his best friend. His mind sprang into action abnormally quickly for someone who tended to lounge abed as he realized where he was.

The morning after.

Kikumaru and he had made love twice more through the night, once immediately following their initial encounter, and once when Kikumaru had awoken him around dawn by giving him the blow job of his life. He was sore and tired still, but the clock said it was nearly nine, and the farewell brunch started at ten. Checkout was by noon.

There would hardly be any time to discuss what had happened, what they had done. God, why the hell had he let himself be seduced? He didn't know Kikumaru anymore, didn't...

His thoughts began to swirl in a panic as recriminations raced through his head. He wasn't the type for one night stands; he'd never had one before. He didn't believe in casual sex; the two people he'd slept with had been long-term affairs, only broken apart when they realized that they were truly incompatible.

But this was entirely out of character. He realized that Kikumaru was attractive, but falling into bed with him was wrong. It was taking advantage of someone who....

Oh, hell. Who was he kidding?

Kikumaru Eiji had been a willing and fully able participant. There had been no trace of desperation, or trying to hide. Kikumaru had apparently resolved his issues himself, and decided that he was going to take advantage of the rooming situation.

It was a bit of a sick thought, to think you were a convenient body - especially by someone you had once lived for.

Kikumaru had been his first love, though at that time Oishi had been too shy to make an approach. Being gay was difficult, and he had been terrified that Kikumaru would run away - or worse. So he'd never done anything.

Apparently, Kikumaru might have been receptive, had he...

No. No regrets.

_I’m making sure there’s no more regrets._

Hadn't Kikumaru said that to him, last night? It was hard to remember conversation when the memory of skin and pleasure was so much more vivid, but he recalled those words being spoken softly right before Kikumaru had pushed him beyond the point of no return. He would have thought more on it, had the sound of the water not stopped from the bathroom, and less than a minute later Kikumaru emerged, the hotel bathrobe wrapped around his slender frame. 

They stared at each other for a long minute, and Oishi opened his mouth to make ask something - anything - but Kikumaru gave him a cheerful smile. "The shower's yours," he said. "We have about half an hour. Inui wants us to meet at nine thirty so we can go to breakfast together."

It was so normal, so unassuming about what had happened that Oishi felt like he'd been punched and the air had been knocked out of him. There was nothing in the redhead's demeanor to indicate anything special had passed between them. 

"Eiji," Oishi started, wondering how to bring the subject up, if Kikumaru wasn't going to.

Kikumaru turned quickly, pulled a robe off a nearby chair, and threw it to Oishi. "Hurry up, Oishi!" he commanded. "We need to get our stuff together!"

For a second Oishi wondered if he'd imagined the night before, before looking at the stained bedcovers. 

He found himself obeying, knowing that arguing with Kikumaru was a futile pursuit. The hot shower felt good on his tired body, and wiping off the remnants of their sex calmed him considerably. They would talk before he left, no matter how much Fuji tried to stop him or Kikumaru played stupid.

It took fifteen minutes, but when he emerged, the room had been tidied. Kikumaru had gathered all of their belongings and neatly packed them to be returned home. Kikumaru had also gotten dressed, in a pair of jeans and a brilliant purple and red shirt. The bed stood in mute accusation, and Oishi stared at his lover.

"We need to talk," Oishi said firmly. He had learned how to be commanding as vice captain, and he used it with intractable patients. There would be no escape from this confrontation.

Kikumaru gave him a wary look. "Nya?"

"What happened last night?"

The Kikumaru Oishi had known throughout his life might have made a joke about the seriousness of the state of affairs, but this one merely nodded. Oishi had seen glimpses of the adult Kikumaru in school, but had never really expected him to materialize.

"You were in love with me in high school," Kikumaru said.

Oishi took a seat heavily in a chair, never expecting anything like this. He never thought Kikumaru has recognized his emotions. "We're not in high school anymore," he said softly. "I don't even know you anymore. It's been ten years."

"I realize that." Kikumaru's voice was just as calm and just as level as Oishi's own. He leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. "But I was your first love."

Oishi couldn't deny that. "It was a long time ago."

"It was simple back then. We were about tennis and school, and occasionally I'd date a pretty girl who I would put through hell. I knew you loved me, and that was okay, too, because I knew you were never going to do anything about it. It was just something I assumed would always be there.

"Then life got complicated. We graduated, and less than a year out, we lost touch. I made new friends, and then....

"It was on my twenty-second birthday. Fuji was busy, so I accepted an invitation from a different friend - and somehow we ended up sleeping together."

Oishi blinked at Kikumaru. "I assume it was a guy, if it made such a big impact?"

"I never thought I could be gay. But it was different. Something clicked, and I suddenly realized that one of the reasons I went through girlfriends so quickly was that I wasn't really attracted to any of them. So I started to date guys."

Oishi nodded slowly, even though he hated the idea of Kikumaru dating others.

"It was fun, usually, but it wasn't right, either. Some of them wanted me to be femme, and I'm not. I'm me, and I can't change who I am. And I started to wish that I hadn't neglected you back in high school, because at least you loved me."

There was a slight smile on Kikumaru's face as his tone took on a dreamy tint. "There's a difference when someone loves you, so I'm told."

"Eiji-"

"I know you don't love me anymore. It would be ridiculous to love someone you haven't seen in ten years," Kikumaru replied, and the purple eyes that met Oishi's weren't upset, but a bit wistful. "We could have been wonderful, if I hadn't been so stupid."

Oishi had listened to Kikumaru's speech, and felt his heart twist painfully. Their lives had gone on their own paths, and there was a trace of regret. He enjoyed his life, but what would it have been like if he'd had Kikumaru Eiji at his side? Someone who knew how to laugh, and kept him from being too serious?

It certainly would have been different.

"We can't change the past," Oishi said. He stared down at his hands, wondering if continuing would be wise, but then deciding that he owed Kikumaru the truth. "Maybe a part of me will always love the boy you were. You were my first love."

"But you've grown up," Kikumaru said softly.

"I've changed. I'm not the Oishi Syuuchiroh you knew."

The silence hung long and large between them.

"I shouldn't have seduced you," Kikumaru said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." 

He looked around the room, wondering if he had the courage to ask the next question - but shyness had gotten him nowhere in the past. Last night had been one of the best of Oishi's life. 

"Would you like to go out on a date?"

The redhead appeared taken aback. "A date?"

"It's an activity where couples find out if they're compatible. Kikumaru Eiji, would you like to go out on a date with me?" Oishi asked, feeling as nervous as a schoolboy. They had moved too fast, gone in all the wrong directions, but maybe they would be able to get it right this time.

The question was ten years late, but the smile on Kikumaru's face was brilliant. "I'd love to."

Glancing over at the clock, Oishi noticed the time with an inward groan. They were late for the final meeting - but he had the feeling Inui, Kawamura, Fuji and Tezuka would wait for them.


End file.
